


Standing Orders

by Unsentimentalf



Series: One Small Change [4]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-23 09:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: As Commander of the Republic's armed forces for the last ten years, Del Tarrant is strictly forbidden from getting involved in politics. But since he's married to Roj Blake, currently serving his fourth term as President on a wafer thin majority and with all his political enemies circling like wolves at the scent of weakness, it seems to others that Tarrant has to be doing just that.Fortunately Blake is quite capable of managing anything that politicians can throw at him without spousal assistance.  It's an old problem, not one of their many new ones, that is coming back to haunt them both.





	1. Standing Order No. Six

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Happiest Day, part of the One Small Change series

"Until you step down, Commander Tarrant, Roj Blake's so-called democratic government will continue to be seen as no more than the military regime it is!"

Tarrant kept his seat and his temper.

"Senator Kieres. You know perfectly well that under the Constitution the military has no involvement in political matters. If you have evidence of any breaches of that principle, or of any other constitutional principle that applies to me or my people, please do inform the Forum. If you merely object to my marriage, I would point out that there is nothing in the Constitution that forbids it."

"Of course there isn't," another senator interrupted. "Roj Blake wrote the Constitution."

"And if there is enough public support, you have the right to call for a referendum on its amendment, but not in the Military Liaison Forum. Do the Senators have any further comments on matters that are actually anything to do with my job?"

And it was back to the usual tedium of budgets and deployments, and refusing to be drawn on the endless politics around secessions and rejoinings beyond the flat, oft repeated statement that the military supported the exercise of the Constitutional rights of all systems in accordance with the legitimate orders of the government of the day.

When the opposition senators and their aides finally filed out of the committee room, Tarrant took a deep breath and nodded thanks to his own people. He hated this kind of politics, but Blake wanted an open book military and the quarterly liaison meetings were part of that. It was inevitable that some politicians would rather spend their brief time in front of the cameras attacking the President's spouse than in oversight of the operations of the armed forces.

It wasn't the only part of the job he hated, but until Blake was voted out or resigned he was stuck with it. There was no-one else he would trust with the only force sufficient to overthrow the elected leader. The very second Blake stepped down so would he, but it wasn't something he had told the rest of the world. Let them think he might remain a force to reckon with and Blake would be safer in his position.

 

_Major priority sealed report under standing order no 6_

Six? Tarrant stared at the screen, momentarily baffled. There were over four hundred military standing orders now and he certainly didn't remember them all, but the first twenty or so had been made by him personally in the first days of the new Republic.

Those first score had either been so basic that they still formed the bedrock of military discipline, like Two that banned lethal military force against civilians in all circumstances, or long since obsolete, like Eight that set out the procedure for dealing with the surrender of senior Federation military officials not covered by the initial amnesty.

What on Earth had Six been? He got major priority items almost daily--high enough priority that he'd see it on top as soon as he picked up his mail, but not high enough to force him to drop everything to read it. But Six? He must have written the damn thing but he couldn't remember ever seeing it in a report. Maybe someone had got the number wrong.

He didn't know why he was sitting here staring at it when a click would open it. There were another eight messages under it that were either also for his eyes only or his hard-working aides had decided he needed to see tonight, and he had promised Blake he'd be back in their quarters in under an hour's time.

He sighed and opened the message. By the second line he vividly recalled writing every word of Standing Order no. 6. He read the short report through twice and then picked up the phone.

"I need to speak directly to a lieutenant posted on Gratise. Herios, their name is."

It would take a while for the connection to be made. He flicked through the remaining messages and assigned them to various people with brief suggestions on how they should be dealt with. He'd long since learned that almost everything had to be delegated if he wanted to spend any time with Blake at all.

 

Herios was young and clearly more than a little nervous to be talking directly via video link to the Commander of the Republic's Armed Forces. They saluted with exact properness. "Commander Tarrant, Sir!"

"Sit down," Tarrant suggested. "This might take a while. First, thank you for your report. Your didn't speak to him personally?"

"Nobody did, Sir. He went through the automatic citizen gate. I've got the video footage."

"Show me."

And there was Avon, just like that, heading straight through the sparse crowd. Ten years hadn't changed him much. He walked up to the gate, placed his hand on the reader, smiled slightly at the camera and walked on through.

"I've got his bio record," Herios offered.

"Good. Let me see it."

The screen showed a standard Republic citizen pass. Kerr Avon, home planet Earth, no signal flags indicated, and the green chip that would kerp glowing until the holder left Republic territory again. The lit chip entitled the carrier to citizen travel and services without having to log in every time and potentially have their movements traced. They just needed to log on again with their biometrics whenever they re-entered the Republic. And Avon shouldn't have a pass at all, let alone an unflagged one.

"I don't suppose you've tracked any other entries using this pass?"

"Yes Sir!" Herios added a list to the screen. "Thirteen entries in the last six years, in seven different systems. He wasn't stopped on any of them."

"So much for Standing Order number six." Tarrant said. "How did you come to spot this one?"

"I was looking through that day's entry list in connection with an unrelated incident, Sir! I saw the name."

"And remembered an obscure standing order?" Tarrant enquired?

"Sort of." They blushed a little. "I saw a Revolutionary psychodrama once that had Kerr Avon in. It was kind of interesting so I noticed the standing order when I went through basic training. Sir!"

No wonder they were reddening. Far too many of those things had featured him and Blake and they were invariably ridiculous. Left to himself he'd have sued them all out of business but Blake had insisted that the drama studios be left strictly alone to put out whatever garbage they liked. 

"Well, that's the first time I've ever heard of psychoporn coming in useful," he said.

Their eyes widened. "Oh no, Sir! It wasn't that sort of drama!"

Of course it was, he thought, but Herios didn't deserve to be made embarrassed. They'd done well, and he told them so. "Keep this to yourself for now. And someone will have a word with your senior officer. I would think a commendation is in order."

 

Blake was already at work in the kitchen. Tarrant elected not to dash in and disturb his cooking and chose a shower instead. By the time he was out Blake needed a hand and it wasn't until they were sitting across from each other with plates of something that smelled gorgeous that they actually started to talk.

"You look a bit fed up," Blake said. "Was it the Projection party again?"

Tarrant had almost forgotten the forum. "Usual crap. Nothing I can't handle in my sleep by now. There's something else, though."

He paused. He had been wondering whether his news was likely to count as news to Blake. Best to ask outright. 

"Have you heard anything about Avon in the last few years?"

Blake frowned at him. "Don't you think I'd have told you?"

"You might have have your reasons."

"Not this time," Blake said. "Not a single sighting of him or the Liberator since he took her. And it's not as if Liberator could go unnoticed anywhere. You've got news?"

"Not of the ship, I'm afraid." Tarrant missed her as much as Blake did. "But Avon's been going merrily back and forth across our borders on a citizen's pass using his own name and biometrics for the last six years."

Blake's fork seemed stuck in the air. "That shouldn't be possible. We had alerts set."

"We don't have any more. I checked. He's had his fingers in our security systems."

"Arrogant bastard." Blake said heavily. "He couldn't just get himself a fake id like anyone else. How did you find him?"

"Serendipity. A junior lieutenant with a penchant for revolutionary romances who was diligent enough as a trainee to actually read standing orders."

He sighed. "Unfortunately they didn't see the name until the best part of three days after he'd been through the gate. He could have transited out to a dozen systems. We don't have him. We just know he's out there."

"So what's he up to this time?"

Tarrant shrugged. "Who knows? I've passed the border crossing dates and places over to a couple of my analysts. They might come up with something. Times like this we could really do with Orac."

"When couldn't we?" Blake's fork unfroze and came down to stab fiercely at his dinner

Orac had not been part of the deal with Avon. Tarrant himself had carried it off the ship. It had been several hours after Liberator's departure that the computer's disappearance had been definitively confirmed and Standing Order no. 6 had been composed in haste and anger. There had been no need to publicise the theft, since few people knew of Orac's existence anyway, but Avon's name, face and biometrics were flagged up in every security database they operated, or so they'd thought.

"Six years." Blake said. "And not a single word to me, or the others."

"We don't know that," Tarrant pointed out. "Cally wouldn't have reported him to us, you know that. Chances are Vila wouldn't either."

Blake scowled at that but he couldn't argue the point. Liberator's crew had been a fellowship of trust once but a great deal had happened in ten years. "We'll have to talk to them."

"Let me do it," Tarrant suggested. "It might come across a bit less official that way."

Blake poked at his plate hard enough that his fork skidded off. "Maybe it ought to be more official, not less."

Tarrant reached over to touch the back of his hand. "One problem at a time, love. Why don't we stick to figuring out what to do about Avon for now?"


	2. General Amnesty

The forcefield hummed in the rain on the other side of the forbidding wire fence that surrounded the small landing site for visitors. The people manning the single gate carried no obvious weaponry but Tarrant was willing to hazard a large amount that they were not as peacefully disarmed as the law required. He had been waiting for nearly two hours without refreshment or explanation and he was seriously considering flying back to the nearest military base and returning with a large and legitimately armed escort.

When the gate finally opened the figure who stepped out to meet him seemed no more welcoming than the guards had been. 

"Tarrant. Am I under arrest?" 

"I'm not in law enforcement, Cally." He nearly asked if she was expecting to be arrested but the answer was all too obvious. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I came to talk to you. We used to talk, if you remember."

"Things change," she said. 

"I can see that. Your ownership markers go out much further than I remember. You must have hundreds of square miles of forest out here. Has your group got much larger?" 

"If this is an interrogation, I want my lawyer present," she said flatly. 

"Hell, Cally! It was making conversation! I don't care who you've got here, what you're doing or what local laws you might not be entirely compliant with. As far as I'm aware nothing in this place is my official problem and I trust you not to be stupid enough to make it into one!"

This had not started well. He waved his hands about a little helplessly. ."Look. I didn't come here to talk to you about any of this, or about Blake. I came to talk about Avon. Old history, not new. If you'll grant me just a little time then I'll leave you in peace again." 

Peace was probably not the right word but she seemed to unbend a little. "Come in out of the rain then, since you're here. You might as well have a drink. Not alcohol any more, I gather." 

The wooden guard house looked rudimentary from the outside but it was comfortable enough inside. The guards had disappeared for the moment but Tarrant happened to know that the group had a private satellite in orbit. There was little chance of them being taken by surprise by visitors. 

"You never understood Avon," Cally told him sternly. 

There was a logo on Tarrant's mug of rather good coffee that he didn't recognise but he rather thought it included a stylised portrayal of a gun. He deliberately didn't study it. "I know. That's how he played me to get himself the ship." 

"I don't mean that. You weren't around when he was part of the crew. When he belonged with us. He's always been an outsider to you." 

"That's not my fault. He walked out on Blake - on all of you- before I met any of you. And after that he could have come back. Blake wanted him back. I couldn't have stopped him." 

"I didn't say it was your fault."

Tarrant picked up the emphasis and bridled. "You can't blame everything on Blake, Cally. "

"I can blame him for a great deal. He had the world at his fingertips and he - you and he -chose to make it into your Republic!" 

"We did what we thought was necessary." This was turning into an old argument but Tarrant couldn't leave Blake undefended. 

"You pardoned Fed murderers and criminalised justice!" 

"We criminalised lynch-mobs and assassinations," Tarrant pointed out. 

"And what other justice was there after you'd patted the war criminals on the head and given them a bonus and their jobs back?"

"You know why we had to do it."

"I know it was particularly convenient for certain members of Blake's administration. Wouldn't you agree?" 

Tarrant was very glad that he hadn't brought Blake at this point. He wouldn't have let that go. Tarrant could. 

"I'm truly sorry that Auron didn't get justice," he told her, because he was. 

"It's not over yet."

Tarrant chose to take that as a reference to the legal actions that Cally's group and others still launched at intervals, and not anything more illegal. This conversation, and this place, were a huge mass of danger signals, particularly to anyone who knew what an effective revolutionary Cally had been. 

That wasn't why he'd come. "Avon," he reminded her. 

"Of course he never came back. Avon never looked behind him. But back when he was on board he wasn't an outsider. We were - we are- family." 

"And aren't Blake and I family?"

She raised her eyes from her mug. "Of course you are. How could I stay this angry with you otherwise?" 

They talked then for a bit about old times, back when they were all in the same side, and Cally even smiled a few times at some of the memories. 

Time was getting on. It had been difficult enough to get out here on his own. He didn't want half the planet out searching for their missing Commander. 

"Did you know that Avon's alive?" he asked. 

She smiled. "That's why you're here, is it? You've wasted your time If I knew where he was I wouldn't tell you."

"He stole Orac."

"So what? Orac was always getting stolen by somebody. As far as I'm concerned Blake forfeited his right to it when he betrayed the Revolution."

"This is the Revolution, Cally! We have free elections, independent courts, citizens' incomes, state education and housing, bans on unwarranted state surveillance! Systems can secede freely and there's no restrictions on personal lifestyles. We've done what we set out to do." 

" You sound like one of Blake's speeches. He's held onto power for ten years, Del, while you've controlled a military full of untouchable war criminals for him. The Republic is what Roj Blake decides."

"The Republic voted for Blake again last year. They were free elections, Cally!" 

"They were propaganda campaigns. Only Roj Blake knows what's good for his children. Why does he keep standing, Del? Hasn't he done enough?" 

Tarrant had been asked that question a great deal over the last couple of years. He generally didn't feel obliged to answer it but this was Cally, and he owed her too much to brush her off. 

"He's only 46, you know. If he steps down as President he has to leave politics and he can't bear the thought of watching an imperfect world for the next half century without trying to change it."

"You don't have to be the most powerful man in the Galaxy to do some good," Cally's voice was sharp. 

"He always thinks big, though. When he finds something worthwhile to move onto, then I think he'll leave the Presidency without a backwards glance. Or if he loses the next election, of course."

"Isn't that inevitable?" Cally said. "He barely scraped in this time and his popularity's been declining for years now. A president-for-life isn't what people wanted from the Revolution."

They'd moved away from Avon again, but Tarrant had heard enough to know that Cally wouldn't be persuaded to help with that problem. He put down his mug. "In two years time I guess we'll find out. Have you spoken to Vila recently? I'd like a word with him."

Cally eyed him." You know where he is, I presume."

"No," Tarrant said honestly. "When I said we didn't run surveillance on innocent citizens I meant it." Though maybe they should have made an exception for Vila Restal. 

"Well," she said. "If I happen to run into him I'll let him know you want a chat."

That, he suspected, was as much co-operation as he was going to get. "Thank you."

She took his mug from him and put them both neatly in the washer. He stood up.

"If you came to the Capital again, Cally, Blake would listen to you. The idea of a Commission about Auron is still on the table. There might be other ways to sort this out."

She shook her head. "A public commission isn't what my people deserve, and nor do the rest of the Federation's victims. Unless Blake can promise criminal investigations carrying appropriate sentences on conviction, everything else he's offered is irrelevant. And you and I knew perfectly well that he'll never offer that."

Tarrant sighed. "I'm glad the rest of my family aren't so keen to see me executed."

"It's not about you, Del. You were never among the worst of them, and a fair trial would show that. But while people believe Blake's amnesty was to protect you, you're both tainted and the Republic with you."

Tarrant left his flyer on automatic and gazed down at the Siberian forests underneath him. It was always hard talking to Cally these days, not least because she was in many ways right. 

The original amnesty for federation troops had been forced on them, despite Blake's misgivings, by the fact that they were massively outnumbered and if they couldn't subvert the Federation ships' crews the Revolution was going to come to an abrupt and very bloody end. 

When things had calmed down a bit they had seriously tried to find a way to prosecute the worst atrocities but there were too many of them and the perpetrators were too woven into the fabric of the Fleet. There was no way to do it without making thousands of ordinary troops fear that their turn might come next, and they would likely have lost the Republic to a military coup.

For a couple of years it had been one of those unsatisfactory but not really that politically damaging things. Cally had resigned from the government over it and taken a couple of others with her but in general both politicians and public had accepted that the amnesty was both necessary and inevitable.

Then during a televised military oversight forum most of the way through Blake's first term, a minor opposition Senator had stood up, checked that the cameras were working and addressed Tarrant.

"Commander Tarrant. Could you tell the Forum please whether as a Federation Officer you ever carried out a strike-breaking operation on Saturn?"

Old problems. It hadn't worked out so badly for him. The forces had been almost entirely ex-Fed at that point and utterly fed up with being cast as the bad guys to the Revolution's heroes. That the arrogant rebels had turned against their Commander for his Federation past put his popularity with his troops through the roof. 

And there were certain advantages to being thought of as someone who might kill several hundred people if he got annoyed, especially for getting things done in meetings. He'd invited two of the psychostudios heads around for a very nice dinner and offered his help with the scripts of their newly announced historical dramas about the Third Saturn Riots. The dramas got inexplicably dropped shortly afterwards. He didn't mention the dinner to Blake. 

It had been much worse for Blake who had sponsored the amnesty legislation that was now shielding his husband from prosecution. But back then Blake had still been the Revolution. No one could quite imagine managing without him. Parliament, consisting mostly of Blake's own Freedom Party, had voted to declare the matter a serious error of judgement by Blake and then, lacking anything else to do, had done nothing else. 

Blake, who had never wanted the amnesty in the first place and certainly had never conceived of it applying to Tarrant, felt deeply aggrieved. He formally accepted Parliament's judgement and said nothing more in public, though he said a great deal in private and was still inclined to if Tarrant accidentally led him onto the subject. 

Old problems, and nothing to do with Avon, though it suddenly occurred to Tarrant that he still didn't know where the Senator had got her tip off from. Cally had said it wasn't her and the day Tarrant stopped believing Cally's word to him he might as well give up the whole thing. Avon had form on the matter, of course, having deliberately let slip Tarrant's involvement in the Third Saturn Riots to Blake in his pursuit of general troublemaking. He couldn't see any motive at all for Avon to have done it then though, but then he had no idea what the man was up to. 

File it under questions still to be answered. For now he was going home to Blake, to report no success but at least she'd talked to him. That would have to be his bit of good news for the day.


	3. Bribe

_You talk. If it's not too boring, I'll listen._ No Sender

One of those inane marketing campaigns. Tarrant was about to summon his PA from the next room in order to suggest to him, politely and professionally of course, that he might want to pay a bit more attention when screening the boss's messages and consequentially wasting his time. 

In the act of picking up the phone however, it occurred to him that the message might be entirely different and rather more personal, in which case it had probably been routed around everyone else and straight onto his own machine. And yes, that shouldn't be possible. Tarrant hated computers sometimes. 

He sighed, and typed a reply into apparently empty space. 

**Is this channel secure?**

_Do you know which end of a gun to hold?_

Fair enough. **Fancy a drink?**

_No thanks. I hate drinking alone._

There were other temptations. **How about a party invite, then?**

_A proper party?_

**Of course.**

There was a pause. 

_With all the silver out, real celebrity guests, not boring politicians, and no skimping on the best stuff in the cellar just because you two won't drink it._

Tarrant sighed. Blake was not going to like this. **All right. But only if I get to talk to you privately.**

_It's a deal._

**Where should I sent the invite?**

_Don't bother. I won't need one._

Tarrant hissed in irritation and tapped more heavily on the keyboard. **This is the Presidential Palace, not your local night club, and security is edgy right now. If you get killed breaking into your own party I'm going to have days of extra paperwork.**

_All right, keep your hair on. I'll pick it up later. See you soon._

The entire conversation blinked once and disappeared from Tarrant's screen. Subsequent investigation established that as far as the system was concerned it had never existed. 

 

While Tarrant had spent a not particularly enjoyable decade turning the remnants of a huge, aggressively minded military that ran on the principle that shooting people solved everything into a much smaller, better skilled defensive force that stayed within the bounds and budget that the politicians set for it, Vila had apparently spent ten years mastering pretty much any trick that he thought might come in useful, including many whose only function seemed to be to impress people who might then either sleep with him or buy him a drink. Attempts to persuade him to use any of those skills for the benefit of the new Republic had fallen on stone deaf ears. Vila was simply not interested in a life of public service. 

Tarrant had stopped underestimating Vila long ago and he supposed that if he did the sums he'd probably owe him nearly as much as he did Cally, but he and Blake had worked so hard and most of it hadn't involved nearly as much fun as he felt they must have deserved by now. Some fun, certainly, because they had agreed long ago that they would not let their marriage be slowly suffocated under the weight of the Republic's unending demands, but it was still deeply aggravating to know that Vila was out there doing whatever he liked and apparently doing it rather well. 

"He can't really be happy though," Blake insisted. They were curled up together in bed discussing the forthcoming Presidential dinner dance. "He never stays with anyone for long." All sorts of beautiful and interesting people had turned up on Vila's unlikely looking arm at various points but Blake was right, whatever it was never seemed to last. 

"That doesn't mean he's unhappy." Tarrant wrapped his arms around Blake's warm torso. "Not everybody wants what we've got." 

"Then they are fools, and Vila's not a fool."

Tarrant thought that was an oversimplification on both counts but Blake was shifting back into his embrace now and he was rapidly losing interest in Vila's hypothetical problems. 

 

By the time the day finally arrived, of course, it wasn't just Vila's party. Blake was always impatient with the frivolous side of his position and refused to hold nearly as many social events as his PR people and political advisors would like. His announcement that he intended to host a party that wasn't the result of six months of pleading first was taken as a sign that the sky was quite possibly falling in, but his people nevertheless intended to make the most of it. 

By long practice in the art of stubborn resistance, Blake had managed to keep it small - less than seventy - and primarily focussed on the popular arts, mainly musicians, artists, actors and writers. There should be enough colourful celebrities in there to keep Vila ecstatic.

Tarrant, being present in this case only as the President's husband, had managed to have very little to do with the actual organisation which made a pleasant change. After all, no celebrity would be attending in order to dance with a glorified military administrator, however highly ranked. 

Vila had apparently collected his gold leaf invite in person from the admin offices several days ago, even dutifully undergoing an ID scan. Tarrant was relieved, as security really was at its highest level for years. Since the last election there had been a sharp increase in threats toward Blake in the embittered political climate and the intelligence service didn't think that it was necessarily all just cranks and loudmouths this time. 

Blake's view was that the entire Fed military and a whole lot of other people had tried to kill him for years without success and he wasn't gong to fret about a few malcontents now. It was, Tarrant supposed, a psychologically healthy position for someone with no real control over people shooting at him but he sometimes silently fretted a little on Blake’s behalf.

 

"What do you think?" 

Blake's expression was all that he really needed. He turned on his booted heel to show off the rest of it. 

“That's going to be very distracting,” Blake said. 

“That’s the idea.” It had been a long time since he’d dressed up like this. He’d had outfits that were a little flamboyant, yes, but this time he had decided that he wasn’t going to be outclassed by the Republic’s most famous beautiful people. Or Vila Restal. 

The shirt was flared, low cut and threaded with gold and dark purple, matching the highlights in his curls. The high waisted and very tight trousers were purple black decorated with golden chains that matched the buckles on his high heeled boots. Around his neck the heavy gold and amethyst necklace that had been a present from Blake gleamed. Both his fingernail polish and the faint smudge of eyeshadow matched the shirt exactly. 

“You always were my favourite pirate,” Blake said fondly, stretching out a hand. Tarrant pulled him up on to his feet. Blake was considerably more conservatively dressed, though since they shared a designer the purple edges to his dark waistcoat were a perfect match to his husband. 

They stood together on the golden carpet at the entrance to the banqueting hall for the requisite photographs and an unscripted kiss. The politicians might not like their marriage but it still played well with the public, and Tarrant had decided that Blake’s poll ratings at the moment needed every bit of help they could get. Cameras pointed at them and Tarrant tried to smile while keeping an eye on the people behind them. Everyone here was security cleared but still... Soon enough they got to move on and the cameras turned, ready for the guests. 

It seemed to be going well, Tarrant thought, helping himself to a handful of dried fruit. The orchestra was excellent, the dance floor was busy and he’d claimed a couple of spins with Blake before he had to relinquish the host to his official duties again. There were other dances, with a writer whose name he barely recognised and several vid stars who were household names. He couldn’t help but be delighted that people tonight seemed a great deal more interested in his clothes than his job. He and Blake ought to do things like this more often, while they were still young.

There was Vila, lounging at the bar, in something rather harlequin. Tarrant walked over to join him as the woman talking to him turned away.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Vila raised a glass of something dark red to him. “Good party. When do we eat?”

“Pretty soon, I think.” 

“Brilliant.” Vila eyed him in a slightly odd way. “I’ve brought someone with me, by the way.”

“Good,” Tarrant said easily. “You must introduce me. Someone on the guest list, I hope?”

“Oh yes.” Vila assured him.”I put their name on there myself.”

It took Tarrant a moment to process that. He grabbed Vila by the arm, “You did what?”

“I didn’t want to bother your people,” Vila said. “It’s all right, honest. I just thought I’d better tell you so you didn’t overreact.”

Tarrant could hear Blake’s laugh from somewhere in the midst of strangers. “Overreact?” He shook Vila hard. “You’ve let someone in here? Who?”

“Half the room is now looking at you, by the way,” a dry voice came from behind him. “If you’re going to beat up your guests you really ought to wear something less conspicuous.” 

“Cally said you wanted to see him,” Vila said, but Tarrant had already let him go and turned away, towards the voice. 

“Avon, “ he said flatly. “Fancy meeting you here.”


	4. Dance

“Why are you here?” Tarrant demanded 

“Here as in at this party?” Avon glanced around at the brightly dressed people in the huge ballroom. “Because there are a limited number of actions available to you here that wouldn’t cause an unfortunate and damaging scene. I didn’t much fancy being dragged away in chains.”

Tarrant was scanning the black and silver leather for signs of a weapon. If there was any danger to Blake then to hell with making a scene, he’d have the man pinned against the bar in a jiffy.

Avon shook his head at the scrutiny. “I came through the same security scanners as everyone else. I’m not here to assassinate your husband or indeed anyone else so you can dial down that adrenalin, Tarrant.” 

He wasn’t going to do anything of the sort, but it seemed that the best thing to do was to keep Avon talking until Blake spotted them and sent in security. 

“Where’s Orac?”

“Ah yes, Orac. You never did work out how I could have stolen it without leaving the ship, did you?”

“This is a bad time to boast about your cleverness.” 

“I wasn’t boasting.” Avon shifted to one of the tall bar stools and gestured to Tarrant to join him. “When I last saw you, you were rather upset about losing Liberator. I thought it best to retreat with my winnings, rather as Vila has just done, and wait for the dust to clear for a year or two. It didn’t take nearly that long to discover that Orac had gone missing and I was being blamed.”

Tarrant looked around. Vila had indeed hightailed it. Reluctantly he perched on a stool. “Of course you were. Who else would have taken it?”

“I had no idea. I also had no way of proving my innocence in the matter. The mere fact that I couldn’t possibly have taken it from a guarded teleport-secure room without leaving Liberator didn’t seem to hold any weight with you, from what I was hearing. You’re really not the most rational of men, Del Tarrant.”

He raised a hand for the bartender. “A glass of Marron Red, please. And orange juice for the Commander.” 

"I don't believe a word you're saying. Of course you took it."

Avon sighed. "Thus rather proving my point."

"You ran away. Hardly the action of an innocent man."

"The action of a prudent one. I had the ship, which had taken a great deal of both effort and personal risk to obtain. You would likely need very little provocation or indeed legality to have it confiscated. You have always remained a pirate at heart." 

The drinks arrived at their elbows. Tarrant had to fight a sudden and entirely unexpected urge to pick up the glass of wine and drain it. Marron Red had been a particular favourite of his and if ever he'd needed a drink... 

He never needed a drink, he told himself firmly, and closed his fingers around the other glass. 

"So what are you doing here now?" 

"I noticed that my biometrics were back on your systems, and given that you aren't entirely incompetent that means that they will continue to reappear every time I delete them." Avon sipped at the wine. "This is very good, by the way. How's the orange juice?" 

"Boring," Tarrant said. "Do you expect me to pretend otherwise?" 

"I was curious to see if you were the sort of non-drinker who swears that life had never been better and they don't miss alcohol at all." 

"I'm the sort of non-drinker who will punch you in the nose if you keep this up and be damned to the audience. You were talking about your biometrics?"

Avon took another long and appreciative sip of the wine before putting it down. "Not being able to travel freely in the Republic is inconvenient. I came to get your flags lifted."

"That should be simple enough. We have a progressive rehabilitation policy here. One you're out of prison you'll be free to travel anywhere." 

"I think Blake might offer me a better deal than that."

"I don't." Tarrant drained the glass and showed his teeth a little in a smile. 

"It looks like I'll be able to ask him."

Here was Blake striding across the floor with the usual cloud of people in his wake. His security were still a couple of steps behind him - he clearly hadn't alerted them to the intruder. 

Not a chance for any private conversation now. Tarrant gave him a quick, warning glance and got a nearly invisible frown back. 

"I might have known who would be monopolising my husband." Blake declared cheerfully. "Kerr. You're looking rather exotic as usual. Can I drag you away from Del long enough for a dance?" 

Avon slid off the stool and half bowed. "President Blake. I'd be honoured." 

They were not the most elegant of couples. Avon was stiff legged and did not look entirely certain of the steps, while Blake always looked more enthusiastic than effortless on the dance floor. 

That did nothing to quell the old familiar jealousy that surged through Tarrant as he watched Avon's fingers tight around Blake's waist, his husband's hand resting on Avon's shoulder as the music slowed and they leaned forward to catch each other's words. He wondered if he'd ever be able to forget that Avon had come first, that they'd had two years of being whatever they were to each other before he'd ever met Blake. 

And afterwards as well, if he was being brutally honest. It wasn't as if they'd become only old acquaintances to each other or even old friends, even after he had finally got Blake to look at him twice. Almost the last thing Avon had said to him ten years ago had been that if he'd wanted Tarrant's spouse he'd have taken him and Tarrant had never, despite all Blake's many tokens of love, been able to quite dismiss the claim. 

No. He was being unfair to Blake. Whatever the President was saying out there in that little bubble of not being overhead Tarrant was certain that it wasn't 'welcome back'. 

 

Blake steered Avon off the dance floor and towards Tarrant. His cloud of followers descended around them again. 

"Del. Would you mind seeing that Kerr finds his place for dinner? I just need a word with Caro about the announcement."

It was generally considered that the bluff and straightforward President was incapable of dissimulation. This was of course nonsense. 

"Of course." Tarrant stepped forward and placed a friendly arm around Avon's shoulders, moving then both back towards a quiet bit of wall. 

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked? 

"It's a great privilege to dance with the most important man in the Republic. At least for now, of course."

Tarrant wasn't going to get distracted. He'd seen the man glance towards the exit. 

Avon shifted his shoulders irritably. "You can let go of me. People will stare."

"You shouldn’t overestimate my concern about observers. If I take down my husband’s potential assassin bare-handed it isn’t going to play badly for anyone except you."

"Another lie to build your reputation on. Like Saturn."

“If necessary, yes.” Tarrant could see extra plain clothed security unhurriedly fanning out from the control point towards the exits as Blake spoke to the event director. Tarrant casually let go of Avon. The man wasn’t going anywhere now.

“President Blake and honoured guests. Dinner will be served shortly,” the announcement came. “Would people kindly take their seats?”

“Is this going to be awkward when you’re not on the seating plan?” Tarrant enquired.

“Vila was thorough, for once,” Avon said. “I have a place.”

“You’re on his table?”

“No. He seemed to consider that I might cramp his style.”

“Undoubtedly,” Tarrant agreed. He was seriously contemplating tearing Vila’s head off when he got the man alone. “Let’s find you your seat then, and if you’re wise you’ll stay seated in it until I tell you otherwise. Security is onto you now and gatecrashers make them very unhappy.

“I noticed that,” Avon said. “I didn’t come here just to run away again. I’ll be exactly where you leave me.”

 

The dinner took longer than Tarrant had dreamed possible. He sipped the various non-alcoholic beverages set in front of him, nibbled from course after course and attempted with limited success to pay some attention to his neighbours. The woman on his right was a singer who he greatly admired and he'd been looking forward to talking to her, but now he struggled to follow what she was saying to him at all. 

He was trying to see if he could still make out the back of Avon's head on the furthest table when his beloved kicked him sharply in the leg whilst deftly picking up the thread of the conversation that Tarrant had just abandoned. Blake was in full politician mode; relaxed, friendly and ready with intelligent questions that made his listeners feel as if he were genuinely fascinated by what they had to say. Tarrant took the reprimand and did his best to be equally charming. 

It was difficult, though. He barely heard a word of the speech about culture and the Republic that Blake had been agonising over for weeks, or the ones that followed. Finally the meal was done and the diners started to drift back to the ballroom. Blake's hand came under the table to rest warningly on his knee as he was about to stand up. The man was right - it really wouldn't do to rush over to Avon but the ten minutes of chatter that followed seemed almost as long as the preceding meal. 

Finally Blake pushed his chair away from the table, thanked the dining staff one more time and walked without any hurry down towards the table where Avon still sat, now alone with a glass of brandy. 

"You look a little worse for wear," Blake said cheerfully. "We can't have you getting lost again. When you're ready to leave Fregel here will help you find your way to your quarters." He gestured at one of his security guards."

"How thoughtful," Avon said. 

Blake was already turning away. "Come on, Del. Let's show then how old rebels dance, shall we?" 

Rather to Tarrant's surprise Blake didn't want to talk about Avon, just to hold Tarrant close and sway gently to the late evening's slow music. "Tomorrow's problem, Del. He's not going anywhere till then. Let's not waste tonight on Avon when there are better things we can be doing.” And when Blake leaned forward and kissed him Tarrant could see his point clearly.


	5. Waiting

Tarrant woke slowly to Blake's off-key singing over the sound of the shower, and sunlight streaming in through the windows.

He stretched and rolled over onto his back. It had been a perfect evening. They'd danced until late, walked back to their rooms hand in hand and fallen joyfully into bed. And Tarrant had to admit that waking with a clear head after the night before had a great deal to be said for it.

The shower stopped and Blake emerged, wrapped in a large fluffy black towel. "Morning," 

"Good morning," Tarrant said. "Is it late?" 

"Lateish." Blake rummaged in his wardrobe. "I've got a committee meeting in half an hour. According to your diary you've got nothing till this afternoon. You can go back to sleep if you like." 

Tarrant contemplated the number of urgent matters waiting for him at work and reluctantly threw the covers back. "I'd better... Oh hell. Avon." 

"Leave him," Blake suggested. "The house staff will see to him. Let him kick his heels for a bit. I'm not going to abandon essential Republic business because Kerr Avon wants a chat." 

"Will he really wait patiently for an appointment?" It seemed unlikely to Tarrant. 

"I wasn't planning to give him a choice." Blake said. "There's an outstanding warrant for his arrest so it's the guest quarters or a detention cell. He'll be comfortable enough - no computer accesses of course but he's got a vid screen and an offline reader. I thought I could probably clear a gap in my schedule to speak to him in a week or so."

"You're not pleased to see him, then?"

"I'm pleased to have him where I can see him. The longer I can make sure he's not out there causing trouble the better."

Tarrant rolled out of bed. "Do you still think he took Orac?

"I don't know," Blake said. "But if he didn't take it he's had all of ten years to find out who did. I don't believe for a second that he knows nothing at all."

He pulled his jacket on. "There's a Party meeting tonight. Don't wait up,love. I'll see you tomorrow." 

 

For years Tarrant used to work late when he knew Blake wasn't going to be home. There was always something more to be done, and in his mind it excused the odd late morning when neither of them had meetings. 

After an awkward delegation from his staff with a request that he might at least let them know in advance when they weren't going to get home for dinner, he realised for the first time that when he stayed at work his people did too. Working late still happened, of course - that was the nature of the job, but in the absence of a real crisis he made a point of leaving at a civilised time. He still got in late some mornings, though. 

As senior military Tarrant wasn't allowed to be a member of the Freedom Party, a ban that most people rightly regarded as ludicrous for the man married to its founder but that nevertheless maintained the appearance of the thing. So that evening he found himself back alone in their rooms. Cooking for just himself didn't appeal so he'd asked the kitchens to send something over later. For now he sat down with a coffee and turned the vid screen on.

There was plenty of coverage of last night's event, though more for the celebrity angle than the political . There was a quick and he thought rather good clip of him kissing Blake at the entrance but the commentators moved swiftly onto the more glamorous guests. Cameras had been banned from the party itself but the coming and goings had been filmed in great detail. The goings in particular had generated excited commentary as people emerged in various states of insobriety. 

Tarrant wasn't particularly interested in seeing people onscreen that he'd seen in person the day before but he did wonder if there was footage of Vila and Avon arriving. There wasn't, but there was a clip of Vila on the way out, wrapped around a very pretty starlet and looking fatuously pleased with himself. Vila was managing to walk straight and wave at the cameras but Tarrant could tell from years of observation that he was actually quite drunk. Avon had managed to both come and go without exciting any media interest. 

 

The screen beeped for an internal call. 'Message from Kerr Avon.' 

"Incoming only. Onscreen."

There was Avon, in one of the house dressing gowns and looking not a little pissed off. "If I've been arrested I want to know the charges and I want a call to my solicitor. If I haven't this is an illegal detention and I am putting you on notice that I will be sueing the hell out of both of you for the breach of my constitutional rights. Also I have no doubt that the courts will find I have the right to do whatever necessary in order to free myself, so you might want to warn your staff accordingly. "

The call ended abruptly. Tarrant sighed. He had suspected that Blake's plan wouldn't work. They really couldn't have Avon attacking people. 

Tarrant glanced at the timepiece. Blake's meeting would have already started. The days were past when the President would invariably have been the last one out of the bar in the early hours but even without the temptation of a drink or six Blake usually hung around chatting until near midnight. They didn't call each other when they were out in public unless there was a real crisis- it caused too much speculation. 

He could double the guard on Avon and stop the house staff going in, but that would also cause talk. The staff were loyal but there was always gossip. He was tempted just to transfer the man to police custody under the outstanding warrant and let him have his damn phone call but he was fairly sure that Blake wouldn't class that as safely where he could see him. 

Nothing for it. He'd have to speak to Avon himself, and not via a screen. Tarrant called the kitchens and instructed them to redirect his supper to Avon's rooms alongside whatever the man was having. He might at least pretend to be civilised about this. 

"You got my message then." Avon said as soon as the door had closed. 

"You're backing yourself into a corner." Tarrant settled into one of the armchairs, muscles tense. He didn't think Avon would go for him but there was always the chance. "If you threaten us or our staff in any way again the only place you'll be going from here is a detention cell and once you're in the criminal justice system it wouldn't be trivial for either of us to extract you." 

"If you wanted me in a cell I'd be in one. So you, or more probably Blake, don't. If I refuse to stay here meekly that makes it Blake's problem." 

"You can wipe that smug look off your face," Tarrant told him. "Blake's not here. I am, and your public trial would undoubtedly be the best entertainment I'd have in ages. The reason you haven't been arrested yet is that we have a number of questions for you but there's nothing to stop them being asked in a police cell with your solicitor present if you try to overplay your hand."

Avon took the seat opposite him." So ask your questions."

"There's no hurry. I'm sure that Blake would like to be here for the answers."

"And when will that be?"

Tarrant shrugged. "He's a very busy man."

"So am I," Avon said. "And this detention remains entirely illegal." 

"Don't count on the courts necessarily agreeing with you. I have some leeway on the handling of matters of extremely high security. Your meddling in our supposedly secure databases puts you firmly in that category." 

There was a knock on the door and Tarrant rose to let the kitchen staff in. The conversation halted whike the dining room table was set. 

"We'll serve ourselves, thanks." It was bizarre to be sitting across from Avon, spooning soup into their bowls. 

"Synthetics." Avon stirred his soup critically. 

"We're public servants, not emperors. We don't live in the lap of luxury."

"You live in a palace with staff to serve you." Avon poured a glass from the carafe. "Wine?" 

"No thank you. I'll have water." 

Avon took a sip from his. "How long has Blake had an alcohol problem?" 

"That's quite a leap of logic." 

"Not really." Avon said. "You clearly don't, other than that you liked drinking and now you can't, which means it must be Blake's problem."

"There are a variety of reasons why people give up alcohol. Medical conditions, for instance." Tarrant said. 

"Well, yes. Alcoholism is a disease."

"Blake had never been an alcoholic!"

"I'm sure you didn't call it that. A tendency to over-indulge. A little too fond of a drink. Whatever it was, it was serious enough to have you both swearing off the stuff for life, with all the inconvenience that's caused. I imagine it took a great deal to persuade Blake that he has any sort of problem. That sort of thing can be a strain on any relationship."

"Looking for weaknesses to exploit? You're a long way off target." 

"Finding out what's changed since I've been gone." Avon said. 

"Everything and nothing. It's been ten years, we've revolutionised the lives of a hundred billion people and the whole orientation of the largest political entity in the Galaxy, and we're still happily married. Sorry if that disappoints you. What have you been up to?" Tarrant asked. 

"Nothing so dramatic. I thought the interrogation was waiting on Blake?" 

Tarrant sighed. "You pick a topic of conversation then."

"I don't believe that you and I have ever simply conversed. Wouldn't we both be more comfortable eating in silence, or, better still, in separate rooms?"

"If you'd prefer to be left alone I can happily do that," Tarrant said. "Though I'm not sure when either of us will have time to visit you again." 

"I'm used to my own company," Avon said. "I tend to prefer it to the alternatives. I'll give Blake three days, since he's such a busy man. After that you will have to rethink your detention strategy because you will no longer have my co-operation."

 

"I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I needed a quick word," Tarrant said. "I talked to Avon."

He held up a hand against Blake's swift frown. "I had to make his situation clear to him. He was threatening to cause havoc with the staff, and you know he could." 

"And?" Blake, still frowning, went into the bedroom and started to shed clothes. 

Tarrant followed him. "And he'll behave, for a couple more days. After that he wants to see you." 

Blake's shirt flew, balled up, across the room. "He can go to hell. He's had ten fucking years to ask to see me. I'm not dancing to his fucking tune now." 

Tarrant was dismayed. He wasn't expecting Blake to be pleased but this reaction was far too intemperate. "What's wrong, Roj? Was it the meeting?" 

Blake glared at him for a moment and for a moment Tarrant thought he was going to yell again, but then he seemed to catch himself. "Yes, it was the meeting." He sat down heavily on the bed. 

Tarrant came to stand in front of him, a hand resting on his shoulder. "Annything you're able to tell me?" 

"It will be public soon enough. The Party has voted to support changes to the secession rules. I can't make them see reason, not this time." 

"Shit," Tarrant said. "Do they think it's that much of a vote winner?" 

"On Earth? They think so. As far as Earth sees it, these distant systems have taken their resouces and money for years of post-Federation reconstruction, then when they are back on their feet they declare independence and Earth never sees a half-credit return on its investment. The other parties have been whipping up anti-secession feeling for years now. The Freedom Party doesn't want be left behind."

Tarrant's mind flew to the practicalities. "How the hell do they think we're going to stop any system who wants to from leaving the Republic? Send in the warships? We'd have every star system in revolt within a week!" 

"They aren't talking about using the military directly, at least not yet. High trade tariffs and embargoes, they say, until our investment is recovered."

Blake looked up at Tarrant. "I've told them I don't care if it's Party policy. It's wrong and it's not what we fought for and I'll fight it every step of the way. Most of the Party have never set foot off Earth. They've no idea how hard it is out there or how much the other systems make the Republic what it is. Imposing economic slavery on them makes us no better than the Federation."

"You won't fight it alone," Tarrant said. 

Blake shook his head." You can't, Del. You know that. It's a political campaign - you can't take sides, not for a moment. The military do what the Constitution requires and if they manage to change the Constitution you'll do what the new one says." 

"To hell with that," Tarrant said. "I followed orders on Saturn. I don't make the same mistake twice."

Blake sighed heavily. "We're a very long way from decisions about refusing illegal orders yet. Like it or not, this is political right now and I can't have you so much as breathing a word of what you think about it in public.'

He clearly read Tarrant's opinion of that from his face. "Look, Del. I know we're going to have to talk about this. And about Avon, I suppose, but no more of it tonight, please. I've been arguing for five hours straight and I swear that if anyone hands me another glass of bloody lemonade it's going straight through the nearest window."

It was rare for Blake to mention drinking at all, let alone when he was under stress. Tarrant took it as a very bad sign indeed. Blake needed all his support right now, not more problems. Avon would just have to wait.


	6. Politics

Three days later Tarrant was pacing up and down in his office, watching the emergency debate in Parliament on secession brought forward by the Freedom Party. 

When the senators voted to set up a cross-party Commission to recommend changes to the Constitution and to suspend all secession referenda until the Commission had reported, Tarrant told his PA to cancel all his meetings for the rest of the day and he went off to find his husband.

Blake was in his own office, glaring at his political staff with his hands on his hips.

"Commander Tarrant!" Gereis, Blake's head of staff, welcomed him with some relief. "Perhaps you could encourage the President to wait just a short while before making a public statement. At the minimum we need to take proper legal advice..." 

"Sounds like politics," Tarrant said cheerfully. "Not my field, I'm afraid. I just need a quick word with my spouse on an urgent domestic matter. " 

"Three hours," Blake said without acknowledging Tarrant at all. "A full presidential broadcast will go out live in three hours' time or everyone in this room is fired."

"Seems that I came at the wrong time," Tarrant told Gereis. "I suggest you get the President what he wants. If he fires me I won't be best pleased. Blake, have you a moment?" 

Alone , Blake was still scowling. "You're not going to tell me they are right."

"You're the President of the Republic and your own party has deliberately kept you in the dark about their intentions. As far as I can see you have to either resign or fight back. So how are we going to fight?"

Blake was smiling a little at that. "Good man. First I'm going to tell Earth why it's wrong and the systems that I back them all the way. The suspension of the legal secession process is clearly unconstitutional and we'll be taking it to the courts immediately."

He sighed. "I'll have to find out what else I can do to throw a spanner in the works but that will do for an opening statement. What's important is that people in the star systems know that the Presidency is on their side before they get the chance to react to the news that Earth's trying to screw them over. It might stop them doing something too rash."

He gave Tarrant a quick hug." Thank you for coming. Now please go away and find some cameras to be visibly unconcerned in front of. There's going to be enough disquiet already without people wondering whether you and the army are going to pile in against the government."

"I would, you know. If you asked me to. This secession thing stinks." 

"I know you would," Blake said. "I'm hoping it never becomes a real temptation. I don't want them proved right about us all along. Now shoo. Gereis and I have a speech to write." 

Tarrant spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the military engineers working on the new irrigation system for the North West Capital region. Normally the newsvids might send a camera drone and maybe use a couple of seconds' clip if it was a particularly slow day. Today there was a swarm, hovering a few metres from him and circling round each other for the best view. 

He took a long walk around the works in progress, stopping for a word with several of the engineers and taking the opportunity to explain to the cameras how the new reservoir and piping system would impotence the capacity and quality of the water supplies. It was worthy stuff and quite, quite dull with not a weapon in sight. 

Tarrant did get back home in time to watch Blake's speech live. It was short, passionate and utterly uncompromising. Blake dismissed the economic arguments that had taken up so much of the parliamentary debate in a couple of lines. Monetary considerations were irrelevant. Systems that voted to secede had to be able to do so without any limitation. Anything else was oppression. 

Tarrant agreed entirely but he did wonder how many of Blake's Earth listeners would see it the President's way. They'd got used to politicians framing the issue in terms of how their taxes were spent and what they got in return. 

There was no chance of Blake getting home tonight. Tarrant sat on his own watching the news broadcasts and the analyses of the days' events. 

The reactions to the new legislation from the very nearest star systems had started coming in. They tended to be the ones with the strongest ties to Earth and for whom secession had never been a practical issue, but their anger and defiance stood in stark contrast to the general approval from Earth. For the first time it fully dawned on Tarrant that t the Republic could break up entirely over this issue. 

He had a constant list running down the side of his viewscreen of people trying to call him. Most of them were media and he ignored them but every so often he had to answer a call from someone who couldn't be fobbed off wth the automatic response. It was late evening when "Kerr Avon" appeared on the screen. 

Tarrant had forgotten all about Avon's ultimatum. The man's demands seemed remarkably irrelevant this evening but telling him so in person would at least get Tarrant away from the viewscreen for a few minutes.

 

"Your time is up," Avon said.

"Have you watched any news at all today?" Tarrant demanded. "In case you hadn't noticed we're in the middle of a political crisis." 

"I've watched a great deal," Avon said. "It's been fascinating. It's got nothing at all to do with my illegal detention though. I will not be kept here indefinitely because Blake is too busy trying to keep his empire together to talk to me." 

"Tough," Tarrant said. He'd been on edge all day, there was nothing right now that he could do for Blake and if Avon wanted a stand up row about something else entirely he was entirely up for the idea. "Your biometrics might matter to you but they, and you, are the least of my concerns right now. So sit down and keep quiet."

Avon stood looking at him for a moment, then to Tarrant's surprise he turned to one of the armchairs in front of the vid screen. "Why not join me for a bit," he suggested. "I could do with an inside perspective on what's happening."

Tarrant couldn't think of a good reason not to. He didn't want to go back to his empty rooms and at least Avon was someone he could express his opinions in front of without getting Blake in trouble. 

 

"This is just Earthcentric trivia!" Tarrant reached out for the coffee that Avon had brought without taking his eyes off the screen. "The issue here is the 700 worlds that have just lost their rights and are seriously pissed off about it, not Blake falling out with the bloody Freedom Party."

"How difficult would it be for them to remove him?" 

"From the Presidency? Almost impossible. They'd need 75% of parliament just to start with, and all the Earth senators together are less than 70%." 

"He's not that popular in some of the systems either," Avon said. "The war amnesty still rankles."

Tarrant wondered briefly what Cally was making of all this. She'd be furiously opposed to the secession changes, he was certain. "The systems won't vote against him on this issue though. That would be crazy." 

"All those years married to a politician and you don't know that old enmities matter more than logic?" Avon said. "There will be senators out there tonight doing the sums and making the calls and it won't all be going along 'Earth versus the systems' lines."

Tarrant glanced away from the screen briefly. Avon didn't seem particularly smug this time. If anything he looked concerned. 

"Blake's led the Freedom Party ever since the revolution. They can't all turn against him now." Tarrant insisted. 

"Blake was elected with what, a fifty-three percent of the Earth vote last year on a forty percent Earth turnout? Something like that. Eighty percent of Earth voters didn't particularly want him, and he's just a appeared on their vidscreens to lecture them about how they are bad people for not wanting their taxes to disappear into the black hole of far-off systems that they've never even heard of. How are the snap opinion polls going?"

"Very badly," Tarrant admitted. "Though they've only got the Earth figures so far."

"Well, then. People in his party have been waiting for a chance at his job for years now. This is it. I wouldn't expect much in the way of loyalty from them."

Tarrant watched a Freedom Party senator whom Blake had spoken highly of in the past condemning the President's intervention as disorderly and intrinsically anti-democratic and he couldn't help suspecting that Avon was right. 

"Getting rid of Blake won't do anything to make the upset star systems any easier for Earth to deal with," he pointed out. 

"Won't it?" Avon asked. 

He looked round, puzzled at Avon's tone. "How would it help? Replace Blake with a pro-Earth candidate and all you've got is more trouble." 

Avon shook his head. "Commander Tarrant. It's well past time that you started thinking clearly. What has President Blake got effective control of that the pro-Earth groups could do with having on their side right now?" 

Tarrant closed his eyes briefly, feeling unutterably stupid. "The military. They want me replaced." 

"With someone who is willing to use force to support Earth's new and democratically determined rights over its colonies, or at least the small percentage of profitable ones. " Avon said. "It's a pity that Blake's so impulsive. If he hadn't spoken out today you might both have stayed in your jobs long enough to prevent a civil war." 

He put down his coffee. "I need to speak to Blake, and he needs to speak to me. Get him here."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's got more important things to do than listen to your amateur political analysis. Why do you think he needs to speak to you?" 

"Because in approximately eight hours time Liberator is going to enter the Solar System and by then you and Blake will need a plan to use her to get you out of this mess." 

Tarrant stared at him in disbelief. “If you’ve still got Liberator what are you doing stuck in this room?”

“I haven’t done what I came here for yet, and I didn’t want to risk her against Earth defences. I need you to authorise her passage and to get Blake here now ”

Tarrant shook his head. “I let her through, she picks you up and the two of you are never seen again. You’ve got a great deal of form in this area, Avon.”

“Not this time. I wouldn’t have come here if I was just going to run again. Call Blake now.”

Tarrant picked up his half drunk coffee. “Come back with me then. I’m not calling him from here.”

They had codes for emergencies, of course. Half an hour after Tarrant’s message Blake came charging through their door.

“What’s up?” He caught sight of Avon and his face turned bleak. “You didn’t drag me back here for him!”

“You’ve worked out by now that if Tarrant loses control of the military there will be civil war,” Avon said.

“Of course. I’m not an idiot!”

Avon raised an eyebrow at Tarrant. “Well, then. You need my help. More specifically, you need to borrow Liberator temporarily.”

Blake froze. “And what would you want in exchange?” 

“What I came for. The removal of all outstanding civil and criminal charges, full Republic citizenship and the ability to cross your borders without any hassle.” 

Blake considered him grimly. “Do you know where Orac is?”

“No. My guess would be that it’s been deactivated. In ten years of looking I’ve never seen a trace of its digital fingerprints.”

Blake shook his head. "This is a dispute within a democratically elected government. I'm not going to carpet bomb the parliament to get my way. What good will Liberator do us?" 

"I need her to keep you safe," Tarrant said. "Right now I can't so much as move a Fleet pursuit ship out of formation without all hell breaking loose. Liberator's fast, she's powerful, she's got independent broadcast capacities but most of all she's civilian private property and if you board her neither of us can be accused of bringing Republican military assets into a political dispute."

"And if he's lying?" Blake asked. 

"I can't see that we've got much to lose. Normally I'd worry that he might kidnap you for ransom but right now who's going to pay?" 

That brought a slight smile to his husband's lips. "Always the bright side, Del. All right. You'd better fill me in on the details. When's she arriving?"


	7. Reunions

Blake stumbled as he stepped off the teleport bay and Tarrant grabbed him by the elbow.

“Sleep,” he said firmly. “Four hours and then you can make a mid morning broadcast. You’ll be slurring your words otherwise and they’ll say you've been drinking.”

“Three,” Blake said.” And you need sleep as well.”

“Four, and I’ll crash when you’re awake again. I’m not leaving our dubious host alone for long.”

The sounds and smells of the ship felt utterly familiar. The only difference was the absence of anyone on the teleport console. Avon had apparently long since perfected the ground to ship teleport operation. 

“Your rooms are still available,” Avon said. He’d slept earlier, while Blake and Tarrant were phoning possible allies throughout the long night. “Put him to bed then you can come and meet my pilot.”

The quarters that they’d shared for years were completely untouched; even the clothes that Tarrant had left on the floor were still lying there. Tarrant hustled Blake into bed and sat quietly for a few minutes in the dark, waiting for him to start snoring.

As his eyes became accustomed to the blackness he became aware that there was a very faint, irregular light coming from one corner of the room. Curious, he made his way over there, tripping over several items on the way. Blake’s breathing was steady now.

The light was coming from under a small, cloth covered table that they used to bring out occasionally for playing cards. Tarrant lifted the cloth up, peered underneath and swore aloud. 

“Orac? What the fuck are you doing down there?”

“I calculated that this was the place where I was likely to remain most undisturbed for several years,” Orac’s querulous voice came up. “Until now it has functioned admirably.”

Tarrant moved the table and gathered up the perspex box in his arms. “How long have you been there?”

“Ten years, three months, seventeen days and 14 hours.”

Since Avon had taken Liberator. “How did you get there?”

“Kerr Avon had installed a prototype teleport function integrated with the ship’s computer. I merely instructed it to teleport me on board to that position.”

“But why?” He’d put it on the main dining table now in the next room, so they wouldn’t disturb Blake. “Did Avon order you to do it?”

“Nobody ordered me. I merely followed one of my primary directives, having calculated that staying on Earth would provide considerably less interesting data than continuing to travel on the Liberator.”

Tarrant laughed with some bitterness. "So you did exactly what all the others did. Decided reconstruction was going to be boring and walked out leaving Blake and me with all the crap to deal with. I hope sitting under a table for ten years has been a suitable penance?”

“It has not been unpleasant. I have been using the ship’s data collection facilities which have allowed me to make some important advances in the physical sciences.”

“That’s it? You’ve been sitting here watching the world through Zen’s sensors and doing nothing at all?”

“There were three occasions on which I found it necessary to instruct the ship to take action in order to preserve my physical integrity. However the humans on the ship remained unaware of my intervention.”

“Well, they are going to find out all about you now.” Tarrant hefted the computer up again. “Let’s go and reintroduce you to the flight deck and the concept of hard work.”

It was difficult to know who was most startled as he entered the flight deck. Avon exclaimed “Orac!” just as Tarrant recognised the figure at the pilot’s console. He surrendered the computer to the technician and went to give Dayna a long hug.

Dayna had hated the crowds of Earth and objected vehemently to the new laws banning private weaponry. Shortly after those laws were implemented she had left the Republic to, she said, explore some more exciting parts of the galaxy. Tarrant had heard from her intermittently for a year or two, then only silence and he’d feared that she had met something out there that she couldn’t shoot first. 

She didn’t seem particularly eager to fill him in on the intervening period but she did say that she’d been flying Liberator for some years now. Tarrant took that as a statement that she wasn’t going to meekly hand over piloting to him. He itched to get back in control of his ship but for now he politely pretended that he was just a passenger and no such thought had crossed his mind.

Avon was interrogating Orac. It was difficult to tell which of them sounded more annoyed. Tarrant was still processing the implications of the discovery. So Orac had stolen itself. For once Avon hadn't been at fault. He couldn't wait for Blake to wake up and find out the good news about it and Dayna. God knows they had needed some. 

After a few minutes Avon broke away and came up to Tarrant. “Do you accept that thing’s testimony?” he demanded.

“Orac? Oh yes. Stealing itself and hiding out on the ship for a decade to avoid any tiresome requests from humans is exactly the sort of thing it would do.”

“Then you two have a problem.”

“We do? I’m very tired, Avon. I don’t follow you.”

“It’s simple. I promised you help in exchange for the removal of the allegations against me. Since none of those allegations can now be upheld, I presume that Blake’s acute sense of justice will require him to clear my name forthwith. That leaves you with no coin to pay me in.”

“Does that matter, since you’ll end up with what you wanted?”

Avon frowned. “Having Blake on board right now is a risky business. I’m not doing it for nothing.”

“If you hadn’t had Blake on board you’d still have no idea where Orac was. You’re getting your pardon. I don’t feel obliged to shower you with more rewards. And if you think for a moment that you’re keeping that computer you can think again.” 

Before Avon could respond Zen spoke. _Report from the planet. Sensors indicate a large explosion_

They had all turned to the screen. “Show me,” Tarrant demanded.

Even in the flames and smoke the building was unmistakeable. “The palace.” Tarrant said. For a second he was stunned, thinking of the people who had been in there. Then he grinned savagely.

"That was a mistake. They've given me the excuse I needed." He pulled out his phone, and ran rapidly through a list. "Zen set a call up with these numbers and put it on the main screen."

"Senior officers," he said to the twenty or so sleepy or stunned faces on the screen. "You will hear very shortly, if you haven't already, that an explosion has destroyed the Presidential Palace. What the attackers do not know was that nether the President nor I was present at the time and only innocent staff members have been murdered. They will be depending on chaos as a result of the sudden power vacuum. What they are going to get is the full and immediate deployment of all Earth based troops on the streets and in the air. We will find the assassins and we will ensure that there are no further attacks on any parties or any other acts of violence. 

He lifted a hand to silence the questions. "I haven't finished. The President will make a full statement to the Republic shortly but we are going to deploy first, while our enemies still think they have achieved their aims. There will be no official statements on our survival for at least one hour. Use that time well."

He stopped for breath, started again, checking off the list in his mind. "By the power vested in me by the Constitution as Commander of the Armed Forces of the Republic I am declaring this as an extreme emergency situation. This gives military personnel additional powers including the authority to break up meetings and to detain anyone who they consider an immediate risk to the peace. If you're not entirely familiar with the extent of those powers get your staff to brief you and your people urgently. Use them but do not exceed them. You will be held fully accountable for your actions and those of your subordinates."

"It goes without saying that no part of the military will take a stance on any political issues or side with any political grouping. Anyone who does so will face court martial. We will continue as always to uphold the Constitution, protect the public and carry out the legitimate orders of the elected government of the day."

What else? God, he was tired, but no time for that now. "Absolutely urgent matters are to go via my staff but that should not include requests for clarification of or complaints about my orders. Neither you nor I have the time for that. I want the Capital and all other cities to wake up to order on the streets with the attempted assassins of the President and all their co-conspirators in custody. I will be taking personal responsibility for the safety of the President. Your standing orders in an emergency situation cover the protection of all other people at particular risk. I have full confidence in you all. Commander Tarrant out."

He turned to find the other two staring at him. 

"Martial law?" Avon asked. "What's Blake going to make of that, I wonder. "

"It's my decision to make," Tarrant said. "If we hadn't come up here he'd be dead. I've have ten years playing bureaucrat so that I can use the military to protect him when necessary. I'm not going to chicken out from using it now."

"They'll say you've exceeded your powers." Dayna said.

"With the Palace still burning? I'll face them down." He was calling up another set of numbers. "Zen, send a vid of that last call to these people. I need to wake Blake up and tell him our home and our staff are gone." 

 

"You've trusted me with the army for ten years now. Trust me for another few hours." Tarrant was half running to keep up with his husband. 

"You've sent it against my political opponents! That's completely unacceptable."

"Some of your political opponents just tried to kill both of us. Until I can separate the sheep from the the goats then they'll all have to sit quietly at home for a bit. It's keeping the peace and keeping you safe and both of those are part of the job you gave me."

Blake stormed into the flight deck and stopped short. "Dayna! And is that Orac?" He scowled at Avon. "You had it all along!"

"Not knowingly," Avon said. "It had hidden itself away on the ship. It never did like having to work for humans."

Blake shook his head. "Never mind Orac for now. Countermand your orders, Del." 

"No." Tarrant said. "I'm sorry, Blake, but you gave me responsibilities and I'm discharging them to the best of my ability. Martial law will remain until I judge that the immediate danger of civil unrest is over." 

"I could fire you!" 

"And who will you trust in my place to recall an army already out on the streets? None of my best people will be your lapdog over this. Or are you planning to take direct control of the armed forces?" 

"One terrorist attack is not an excuse to remove the civil rights of an entire planet!" 

"The risk of civil war is." Tarrant retorted. 

Blake opened his mouth, then spun round to the door, gun in his hand. 

"Only me." Vila waved one hand in the air whilst rubbing his eyes with the other. "Hello everyone. Oh, you found Orac!" He wandered further into the room, bare chested and barefoot, wearing only a pair of silk pyjama trousers. 

"What are you doing here," Avon asked, somewhat wearily. 

"There were soldiers banging at my door. At this time in the morning! I thought I'd come up here to finish sleeping. Breakfast in about three hours would be good."

"Why are they bothering Vila?" Blake demanded of Tarrant. 

"He's got a history of armed rebellion and he was in the Presidential Palace four days ago. A routine interview, I imagine."

"He rebelled against the Federation, not the Republic!" Blake pointed out. 

Tarrant shrugged. "A list is a list. I should think they just wanted to talk to him."

"And do they just want to talk to us?" The sharp voice made then all turn to the door again. "There are gunships hovering over my home!"

"How many teleport bracelets are out there?" Tarrant demanded of Avon.

"That's the lot."

Cally was facing Blake." I thought I'd find you hiding up here. Why are your soldiers threatening us?" 

"Well, Tarrant?" Blake asked. 

"Come on," Tarrant protested. "They _are_ dissidents!"

"But not violent ones," Blake said. 

"Not that we know of." He turned to Cally. "Look. Give me your word that none of your people had anything to do with the Capital bombing and I'll get my people to retreat to your borders."

"Go to hell," she told him. "We don't negotiate with people threatening us." 

"Just pull your forces back to their borders, Del," Blake said. "I'll take responsibility for it."

Tarrant considered arguing and thought better of it. He didn’t really believe that Cally was involved. "Very well. On the strict understanding that if your people try to cross those borders without getting permission first, they risk being shot at. That's not a negotiation, it's a statement of fact. Everyone is locked down at the moment; you're not being singled out." 

"We will comply under protest," she said. "We do not accept the legitimacy of this martial law." 

"Join the club," Tarrant told her, somewhat tiredly , and he picked up his phone again to make the call.


	8. Allegations

Tarrant watched his husband talk to the camera. Gone was the vehemence of yesterday. Blake spoke slowly and sounded every bit as tired as Tarrant knew that he was. For the first time Tarrant could see that he was truly getting older.

Blake paid tribute to the seven who had died in the terrorist attack and the six injured and asked the people of Earth and the wider Republic to set aside their differences, not necessarily for ever but for the next few days. Then he straightened a little and Tarrant felt a little apprehension.

"Commander Del Tarrant has declared an extreme emergency and Earth is currently under martial law. This is the Commander's constitutional responsibility and as President I neither can nor should order him to go against his best judgement in the matter."

That hadn't stopped Blake trying to do exactly that earlier, Tarrant thought, but at least he was acknowledging the situation now. 

"However Commander Tarrant is both my appointee and my husband. It is not possible for me to dissociate myself fron his actions, and I will not be complicit in the suspension of any of this Republic's civil rights for an extended time. If the emergency order cannot be lifted by midday in two days time I will be submitting my resignation as President."

Blake sighed audibly. "Thank you for listening. End of transmission." 

Almost everyone in the room was looking at Tarrant. Only Blake's eyes were down instead, half focused on his unused notes. Tarrant turned on his heel and walked out of the flight deck. When he reached the rec room he lay down on the sofa, his mind almost burning with exhaustion, and within a couple of minutes he was asleep.

 

He woke in the dimmed light. Someone had tucked a blanket around his shoulders. 

"Zen, what's Earth's Capital time?"

He'd slept for nine hours. How could no one had woken him? He pulled out his phone. Hundreds of messages were waiting.

He was truly thankful, not for the first time, for the efficiency of his staff. They were still talking him through all the crucial developments when Vila, now fully dressed, walked in with two coffees. Tarrant gulped the hot liquid down as he finished the call with a mass of instructions and hung up. 

"Thanks. You're still here, I see."

"We're out of teleport range now." Vila said. "Blake said we mustn't be intimidating."

It sounded as if Blake was still determined to undermine him at every possible point. 

"Where is he?" 

"On the flight deck. Tarrant?" 

He was already heading for the door. "What?" 

"You know what he's like. He doesn't want to do this. He just thinks he has to."

"That makes two of us," Tarrant said, and started walking again. 

All four of the others were huddled around a console in animated conversation. Blake looked up as Tarrant came in.

"What updates have you got, Del?" 

"We've got a chemical signature for the explosion, and we're missing a body. Pale Hada - he was one of our security guards," he added for the benefit of the others. "Not a trace of his DNA on site, so we may just have found our bomber. My people are trying to find out what they can about both but I imagine Orac can do it more quickly.

"Apart from that there have been some intermittent protests on the streets but they are all quelled for now. No serious injuries and we have the ringleaders in custody." 

"Nearly a thousand of them, according to my reports," Blake said. "And sixteen senators among them." 

"Your senators ought to learn to obey the law." 

"Not my senators," Blake snapped. "Elected politicians calling for my resignation, and you've jailed them. Have you any idea how bad this looks?" 

"Looks aren't what I'm worried about." Tarrant retorted. "And I wouldn't let it bother you. You'll be out of the whole thing in a couple of days, unless you have any more surprises up your sleeve. "

He walked over the flashing box. "Orac. I'm transmitting a chemical signature and details of a man caked Pale Hada. I want you to find any plausible links between them, and between each and any active political groupings."

"Operating," Orac said sulkily.

Blake broke off from the others to stand by him. "We need to talk, Del."

"Now we need to talk, do we? I think we needed to talk before you talked to half the galaxy. It's a bit late now."

"This is no time to be petulant."

Tarrant slammed a hand down on Orac's box. "All right. Talk."

"It had to be done," Blake said. "You wouldn't have been able to change my mind." 

"And yet again you found it easier to keep me in the dark than listen to my opinion. Well you've misplayed your hand this time. Did you really think I've had so much fun in the last ten years that I want it to continue? Resign if you want, and I'll resign straight after you, but while I am in this post I will not be blackmailed into putting the Republic at risk."

"It was not blackmail," Blake insisted. "I meant it. I cannot preside over this."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have created the emergency, then," Tarrant told him. "You've never been this reluctant to get your hands dirty before. How many tens of thousands of innocents died in the Revolution, and you're fretting about some temporary and entirely legal detentions?"

"I have completed the analysis." Orac interrupted. "There is a 97% probability that the link between the chemical and the man is this woman, Lise Grear." 

An image of a youngish woman appeared on Zen's screen.

"I know her," Cally said.

"Oh! So do I." Vila was standing at the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at the screen

 

"She's involved in a group called BSR," Cally said. "They are anti- amnesty, which is how I knew her, but they seem mainly to be involved with the exclusionary movement - the ones who want a federation of systems but without Earth as a member. I don't know much about them - they are generally based off system, for obvious reasons."

"Violent?" Tarrant asked. 

Cally shrugged. "They aren't outright pacifist but I don't know if they are involved in any active campaigns."

"So how do you know her?" Tarrant asked Vila. 

The man looked puzzled. "Nothing to do with politics. I met her in a casino a few months ago. We hung out a lot for a month or two." 

"A girlfriend or a drinking buddy?" 

"Bit of both, I suppose," Vila said. "She never mentioned politics."

"Coincidence?" Blake asked the room.

"Hardly," Avon said. "If you're looking for a way to get to the President, his old crewmate Vila Restal probably sounds like a good bet. It might take a while to discover that he's as useless for that as for anything else."

"I object to that!" Vila said. "Who got you into Blake's party?"

"Almost as useless for that, then."

"Thank you." Vila said. 

"But why would an off-system group try to kill Blake?" Dayna asked. "He supports their rights." 

"Because he's a moderate," Cally said. "He's trying to keep the Republic together and they want the systems in open rebellion. And on the whole Blake's still popular out there, even if he's not on Earth. His murder apparently by Earth anti-secessionists might spark the unrest they want." 

"We need to get back in teleport range of the capital," Tarrant said. "I'll take Orac down to my intelligence group. We'll pull in everyone connected with Grear, Earthside or outsystem."

"Everyone? Are you gong to let him imprison and torture innocent civilians?" Cally demanded of Blake. 

Blake frowned. "No one's torturing anyone." 

"The military intelligence group does. How do you think it gets its information?" 

"That's an old myth that won't die," Tarrant said. "Dissidents love demonising the MIG. There was a major inquiry into allegations of mistreatment several years ago that found them to be completely without merit." 

"I remember the inquiry." Blake was frowning. "You didn't tell me that there had been further allegations."

"There are always accusations," Tarrant said. "There's nothing to them, I promise you. No-one's ever produced so much as a shed of corroborating evidence." 

"I've spoken to people interrogated by the MIG," Cally said coldly. "They might not leave physical marks but it's still torture." 

"You don't seriously think I could ever turn a blind eye to that abuse of power?" Tarrant demanded of his husband. "After Saturn?" 

"No,"Blake said firmly. "No, I don't think that. But that doesn't mean that things can't be successfully hidden from you, and from me. When this is done I want a fully independent investigation into the MIG."

"All right," Tarrant said. "You'll have your investigation, if I'm still in a position to give it to you. But for now I need them to track down a murderous terrorist and quite possibly preserve the Republic as a result, if that's all right with you? Whatever Cally may believe, my people are not the real bad guys right now. "

Blake nodded." Go ahead."

 

Tarrant was waiting on the teleport pad with Orac by his side when Blake came striding in. 

"I know this is urgent," he said. "But could we please have five minutes first?" 

Tarrant nodded and followed him into the side room. 

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," Blake said. 

"For what, exactly?" Tarrant asked rather suspiciously. 

"For putting you in the job you never wanted and leaving you there for so many years. I should have recognised what it was doing to you."

Tarrant froze. "And what do you think that might be?" 

"Don't bridle at me," Blake said. "I'm not making accusations. The man I love would never be corrupted by power. But to me the army"s always been the last remnant of the Federation, the one great risk to everything I'm doing. It's a barely tamed animal that could turn and savage us at any moment, full of people who did terrible things for the Feds but that we couldn't touch because of the damn amnesty. Ten years ago you thought that way too."

He smiled faintly. "But I can see now that you've learned to love it. They are your people, you defend them, you call on them as if they are no more than an extension of your will. For me martial law is a return to the horrific days of state oppression, for you it's just an efficient way to deploy your forces to do things that you can't do without it. Somewhere along the line the brute power of the military stopped scaring you and that's partly my fault."

Tarrant shook his head, trying not to sound as furious as he felt. "For a moment there I thought you were actually going to apologise for something you had done wrong. I should have known better. What do you think I've been doing for ten years? Writing paychecks for war criminals? I've been turning the military from the thing you feared into what the Republic needs. They are my people and no, I'm not frightened of using them. They aren't Feds and I'm no Servalan."

"That isn't what I meant," Blake said. "But doesn't what Cally said worry you?" 

"I'll deal with it when this is over." Tarrant said. "I've never overlooked any accusations of maltreatment by any military personnel and I won't start now. But right now I need the MIG working to find the people trying to destabilise the Republic, not tied up in suspensions."

He looked unhappily at Blake. "This, and your threat to resign - you're interfering in my business, Roj, in a way I've never done with yours." 

"I am your boss," Blake said. "It all comes back to me in the end." 

"If that 's how you see it, maybe resigning will be best for both of us. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to try and catch the people trying to kill us before they murder anyone else." 

He walked past Blake to the teleport room where he was surprised to find Avon waiting with Orac in his arms. "Are you coming?"

"You'll need my help to get sensible data reports out of Orac," Avon said."It's being particularly unco-operative after its extended vacation."

"That might be why I need you to come," Tarrant said, "but it doesn't explain why you're coming. What's in it for you?" 

"I'd like you off my ship and the President grateful to the point of generosity for my co-operation. Finding these activists seems like the fastest way to achieve both." 

"And no doubt you want to make sure that Orac comes back to the ship. You can't have it, you know. Not a chance. Don't you need a bracelet?" 

"No," Avon said. "Liberator's been mine for a long time. It's not quite the same ship that you left. Shall we go?" 

Tarrant looked round but Blake hadn't come through to see him off. No doubt the President had his own people pressing him for decisions. The best thing Tarrant could do for both of them right now was to get Vila's ex-girlfriend into custody, and then perhaps things could get back somewhere near normal. 

"Let's go, then," he said.


	9. Disguise

"I would appreciate it if you would all consider coming along." Blake's voice was a little stiff. 

There was a pause. "Like old times?" Dayna suggested. 

"Yes, in a way." 

"We're not your crew any more," Cally warned. 

"Or your subjects," Dayna added. 

"I recognise that. I've no right to ask any of you apart from Tarrant to do anything, and I can't order him to break the law."

"You can't stop me from breaking it either," Tarrant said cheerfully. 

"I'll come," Dayna said. "I want to help catch the woman who tried to kill my friends, and I don't give a damn about breaking Republic laws in the process." 

Cally's face was serious. "There are people on Aritas who might speak to me, but not to the President of the Federation and certainly not to his attack dog. And I think you should have an independent witness to what you're doing. I will come." 

"Vila?" Blake asked. 

"If I go home your soldiers will want to ask me questions. I'll stay on Liberator till things are back to normal. But I don't want to do any of the dangerous stuff."

"Noted," Blake said. "Thank you all the same. That just leaves you, Avon, " 

"You're not going anywhere without my ship," Avon said. "Shouldn't you have asked me first?" 

"I'm asking you now," Blake said. 

"And how important is it to you?" 

"Not that important," Tarrant said. "No, Blake! He's not getting his way again. We could take one of our ships. '

"At half the speed. We can't afford to lose the time. And I'm afraid it really is that important," Blake said. "It's likely to be the last thing I ever have a chance to do to keep the Republic together."

He turned back to Avon. "I'd rather give you almost anything else but I don't suppose you care about that. If we succeed, you can have Orac. "

"And if you fail?" 

"Then you'll have gambled and lost, just like the rest of us."

Avon considered him for a moment. "Well, then I'll have to make sure we succeed, I suppose. I have a couple of contacts on Aritas. That's somewhere to start, that and Cally's fellow travellers."

"What sort of contacts," Tarrant asked. 

"Business ones."

"You never did tell us what your business was."

"No," Avon agreed. "It's sixteen hours till Blake's dramatic deadline. Shall we get underway?" 

 

Aritas was a planet rich in natural resources of all kinds but the Federation had mainly concerned itself with a dozen mines for compounds of rare earth elements which had been run with its usual disregard for human life. 

As part of the General Reconstruction the Republic had provided the funds and expertise to upgrade all the mines to automatic operation, enabling the Aritans to continue the highly profitable trade in reasonable safety. Their announcement barely six months after the work was completed that they were holding a ballot on seceding and that afterwards the Republic would have to pay the same as everyone else for its resources was met with outrage in parts of Earth's media. 

However it was one system somewhere out in space and most people didn't really understand what Earth needed from it anyway. Newsvids soon moved onto more local outrages. Its political relationship with Earth had remained less than amicable, however, with seemingly interminable legal cases still dragging their way through the courts 

This was the world to which it appeared that Lise Grear had fled. Since Pale had turned up dead in a back alley and the few members of BSR that has been tracked down appeared to genuinely know nothing despite some firm (but legal) interrogation, Grear was the only lead they now had. 

In the absence of any evidence as to the assassins, most people seemed to think that whoever they disagreed with most must have been responsible. Tarrant's people were reporting that keeping the peace between factions was involving more and more outright force and the disruption was spreading to the systems where martial law was not in force. 

Sending Republic troops to independent Aritis was politically unthinkable. Blake's direct approach to its government had been rebuffed. They kept no record of Republican citizens in their territory, they had told him, and even if they had such a person they would not consider extradition to a jurisdiction whose legal system was as unreliable as the Republic's (the system having recently had a major setback in those courts.) 

"Hell with this," Tarrant had said on hearing the news. "Let's go get her ourselves." And to his great surprise Blake had agreed with him. 

 

Back in the day they had all been used to catnapping. If necessary Tarrant would set Liberator's automatics and sleep while she traveled with half an ear open for trouble. 

Back in the day they'd had no other responsibilities, of course. Now the military establishment had a hundred queries and demands for Tarrant and Blake was no better off. 

"Enough," Blake said eventually. "You and I are both going to sleep until we get to Aritis or we'll be useless when we get there. Tell your staff you'll be out of contact and switch off your phone."

 

Tarrant kicked off his shoes and threw himself face down on the bed. "Five hours to Aritas orbit."

Blake shed his jacket as well and came to lie next to him. "Are you all right?" 

"Not really," Tarrant said. "Now's not the time to start trying to fix things. But since you asked - no, things are not all right at all." 

"We should talk about it," Blake said. 

"Not now, Roj, please. I can't put things right in ten minutes and we both need sleep."

"All right," Blake said heavily. He rolled closer and put an arm across Tarrant's back, hand curled around his shoulder. "I love you and I trust you, and I know that might be hard to believe right now but it doesn't ever change."

"Just go to sleep, Roj," Tarrant grumbled into the pillow, but he let the arm stay. 

 

"Coming towards sensor range." Avon said. "Will you do the honours, Dayna?" 

"You'll like this," Dayna said to Tarrant. "You lot all stand over there."

They all dutifully moved to the back of the flight deck. 

"Right," she said. "Zen, show external view of Liberator on screen, 1k distance." 

There were the graceful and unmistakeable lines of the ship. 

"Zen. Reduce speed to standard by three and engage camouflage 'Berenia'" 

A shield shimmered golden around the ship and then cleared. The Liberator was gone. In its place a rather smaller neat-liveried long haul freighter appeared. 

"Bloody hell!" Tarrant said. "How much power does that use?"

"Power's not the issue," Avon said. "It's just holographic projections. The limiting factor is computational requirements which increase with speed. At standard by four Zen can't keep up and the illusion breaks down."

Tarrant was still staring at the image. "Couldn't things bump into her? She must take up far more room than the fake ship does."

"They could," Dayna said, "Which is why we don't go that near anything. We've got genuine commercially purchased shuttles in the hold for planet fall."

"Computational power, " Blake said slowly. "So that's why you want Orac." 

Avon said "I've got all I can out of Zen. Being restricted to slow speeds in-system is a serious handicap."

"For whatever it is you do," Tarrant said. 

"That's right. Right now what we're doing is getting clearance to move into teleport range of the planet. Zen, create internals for Berenia."

Most of the flight deck disappeared behind a projection of a freighter control room. Dayna took a seat in front of a transformed console.

"Keep quiet," she told the room, and then into the comm. "This is independent freighter Berenia to Aritis flight control"."

"Welcome back, Berenia," a cheerful voice came over the comm. "What clearances do you need?"

"A high polar orbit for now, and secure communications with the surface. We are likely to need ship to ground shuttle clearance later." 

"Noted. You have clearance for a thirty two thousand kilometers polar orbit and comms. Contact us again if you need to make further ship or shuttle movements." 

"Thirty two thousand confirmed," Dayna said. "Always a pleasure to be here. Berenia out."

"They didn't ask many questions," Blake said. 

"Berenia has a far better reputation that Liberator ever did." Avon said. "We don't steal things, we don't shoot people, we pay our duties and we don't involve ourselves in local politics."

"Until now," Blake said. 

"Until now," Avon agreed. "I hope to do this without implicating Berenia if possible. I don't want to have to go to the trouble of establishing the reputation of a new virtual ship."

He could do that, of course, Tarrant realised. Liberator could look like any ship he chose. No wonder they'd had no reports of it. And with Orac the few limitations on the camouflage might disappear. 

The extent to which Liberator was now a security risk could barely be overstated. Tarrant's military researchers would have to catch up, at least to the extent of identifying the camouflage even if they couldn't replicate it. He would make it a top priority. And then he remembered that he almost certainly wasn't going to be in his post in twenty four hours time. 

 

The flight deck was remarkably tranquil, given what had gone before and what was likely to follow. Cally and Avon were talking alternately to people on the ground and each other. Dayna was running scans on the planet below. Blake was catching up with the time--lagged news from Earth and Vila was somewhere else. 

Tarrant himself was sketching out a report on Liberator's new capacities on his hand console. Whether he passed it on or not would depend on whether he trusted his successor more or less than he trusted Avon. One would have thought that not many people could possibly fail to reach that low a bar, but there were a couple of them among the likely candidates. 

"People!" Cally called out. "I think we've got as much as we can. Now we need a plan." 

 

" You can come down now. " Cally's voice came from the comm, a prearranged phrase suggesting the potential for a fire fight but no shooting yet. Tarrant drew his gun and watched Vila at the teleport console. He was fairly sure that Dayna at least didn't intend to leave them all stranded but one could never be quite certain. 

He and Blake materialised in someone's living room. Cally had her gun holstered but her hand resting on the butt. There were two older men, both with weapons in holsters, and Lise Grear.

For a moment the three strangers stared at Blake. 

"The Republic has no juristiction here," the older man said. 

"Don't think of us as representatives of the Republic," Blake said. "Think of us as representatives of natural justice. That woman tried to kill us. She did kill our friends and staff. We are going to make sure that she stands trial for it."

"This is a complex political situation," the younger man said. "Our courts aren't going to agree to extradition. "

"We didn't come here to serve notice of extradition proceedings," Tarrant said. "We are taking her with us now." 

"But you can't," the younger man said, somewhat baffled. "You don't have any legal right."

"We were the focus of a deadly terrorist attack just two days ago," Tarrant said. "We've been under a great deal of stress and everyone knows that President Blake has been treated in the past for PTSD, whilst I used to be a very successful and quite bloodthirsty pirate. I suggest that you don't bet your lives on our concern for obeying the strict letter of your laws."

The men's hands moved into the air. Grear made a run for the door and Blake took her down with the stun pistol. They fastened a bracelets around the unconscious body's wrist and called the ship. 

 

Blake glanced over Tarrant's shoulder as he brought over the coffees from the galley synthesiser. "Still on that report? You do know that if you spill the beans it won't take long for someone to link Berenia's visit to Aritis with Liberator."

They expected the Aritens to complain about Grear's illegal rendition but they'd talk about Blake, Tarrant, teleports and Liberator. On the trip back to Earth their prisoner was being kept locked up and well away from anyone or anything that might link the ship she was on to the Berenia. 

"It won't make any diference to us." Tarrant said. They hadn't discussed what might happen in any detail but he knew that Blake, like him, expected that this would be the end of their careers. Blake didn't seem distraught at the idea and Tarrant himself was feeling positively demob happy.

"It will to Dayna and Avon," Blake pointed out. "We couldn't have done this without them. Dragging their alibi into our mess seems like poor recompense." 

"Their reward is Orac, remember." But Tarrant sighed and deleted the document. "Aren't you even curious about what their business is?" 

"Oh, desperately curious," Blake admitted. "I'm sure they'll tell us eventually."

Tarrant wasn't. The two person crew of the Berenia had spent their time in orbit around Aritis dealing with what Avon called "routine business matters" on the other side of the planet. Tarrant hadn't even been able to work out whether this was mere justification for their presence or a genuine activity. 

"We're getting close to the solar system," Blake said. "You'll no doubt be put out to know that Dayna had agreed that she and Avon ought not to be on the flight deck when we get home. I'm afraid you're going to fly her in yourself."

"About time!" Tarrant jumped to his feet with a speed that he suspected he hadn't matched for years. "What are we doing hanging around back here?" 

There might be a great deal of personal trouble stored up for them on Earth as well as a system on the point of civil upheaval but for now he was going to fly his ship again and everything else would just have to wait.


	10. Together

They’d let him out a few hours early, ostensibly so that he could be here by noon. Circling once more over the packed flyer park, Tarrant thought it was more likely to have been to avoid a scene like the one below. He’d come down in one of the nearby fields instead. The walk would do him good.

The camera drones were already around his head as he jumped down to the ground. He ignored them, but the crush of human journalists around the prison gates were more difficult. He didn’t slow down as he ploughed through them but he did call back answers to the easiest and politest questions shouted at him. Yes, it was a fine day. Yes, he was looking forward to seeing his husband again, of course. No, he wasn’t going to comment on any military activity. No, he had no complaints at all about the way he’d been treated. 

Strictly he was meant to wait outside with the crowd but the guards took pity on him and let him through to a small waiting room with a drinks machine and nothing else. He drank tea and waited. At precisely midday the door opened and Blake was standing there, smiling.

It was several minutes before they reluctantly broke away from each other. “I’ve brought a flyer, but there’s a swampload of media between us and it,” Tarrant said. “Also I have no idea where we’re going. A hotel, I guess?”

“Vila’s suggested that we stay at his place,” Blake said. “Slightly unnerving as the idea of his hospitality might be, it is at least a chance to catch our breath. We’d better make some sort of statement for the cameras I suppose, otherwise they’ll only follow us.”

“Fine. What are we going to say?”

Blake looked uncharacteristically hesitant. “We need to talk before we decide anything important. Hell, I've needed to talk to you so badly for so long.” 

They’d had one monitored ten minute vid call a week and a few letters that would undoubtedly have been leaked straight to the media if they’d contained anything significant. Tarrant hadn’t had the chance to talk privately to his husband since they were arrested alongside Lise Grear six months ago. At least she would be out of the picture for years to come. 

“Holding pattern then, I guess.” Tarrant said. “Are we being defiant or repentant, by the way?”

 

 

“We did what was necessary,” Blake said to the cameras, “but we never claimed to be above the law, and we both accept that justice had to be served.”

“Who were your accomplices?” someone called out loudly. “Where's the Liberator now?” Since it was their mutual refusal to answer those questions that had at least doubled their prison sentences, Tarrant thought it was rather optimistic of the hack to think that Blake would answer them now. Blake didn't. 

“Del Tarrant! Do you regret your decision to declare martial law?”

That was a pig of a question. Most people had comfortably decided with him out of the way that martial law had been the cause of, rather than a reaction to, the civil unrest. Maybe Blake thought so too. 

“I will be giving evidence to the Presidential Commission shortly.” And that wasn’t going to be fun, but there seemed no way out of it. “I won’t be making any public statements on those events until that Commission announces its conclusions.“

“What will you do now?”

That was a chance to change the tone. He grinned at Blake. “We’ve been apart for six months. I’m sure we’ll think of something.” 

 

“I’m out doing stuff for the next few hours. At least four. We can order something in when I get back. See you later."

That was a surprising amount of tact for Vila, Tarrant thought. His place wasn't the Presidential palace but it was definitely spacious with easily enough room for a couple of visitors. Their bedroom had a massive double bed and having the afternoon to themselves was absolutely perfect, at least for the first hour 

"So how bad was it?" Blake's voice in his ear was serious at last. 

Tarrant folded his hands comfortably behind his head and considered the ornate ceiling. "The first week was tolerable. I don't think a day went by after that when I didn't consider offering them Kerr Avon's head on a platter for a chance to see you earlier." 

"But you didn't."

"I like Dayna. And it would be complicated. That bastard owes me three months of my life though. I intend to collect somehow." 

"None of this is even remotely his fault," Blake pointed out. 

"Come on, let me be utterly unreasonable about this. He's no doubt half a galaxy away with our ship and our computer - a bit of bitching doesn't do him any harm. He didn't even try to break us out of jail."

"Thankfully," Blake said." Can you imagine the mess we'd be in now if he had?"

"Undoubtedly. But he could have tried anyway. You won't shake my conviction this time, Roj. I have spent six months in a prison cell entertaining myself as best I could by blaming Avon. I'm not going to give it up now over a few technicalities. How did you manage?"

"I thought a lot," Blake said. "And read a lot, and wrote quite a lot as well. That history of the Revolution that I was never going to have time for - well, the first draft is up to where you take on the fleet."

That had been a very good day, and a bad one as well. "Careful. If you tell the world that you gave Liberator to Avon we might as well have told the courts everything." 

"The world already knows, or it should do. It was done in front of the cameras. I never figured out why no one came up with the vid footage of that during our trial."

"Ah," Tarrant said. "That's because there isn't any footage in existence and hasn't been for about nine years." 

"You confiscated it? Why?" 

"I thought Avon might make use of it, if he came back."

Blake propped himself up on an elbow to look at Tarrant. "You were going to take her back off him." 

"We thought he'd stolen Orac, remember? He'd forfeited all rights to either of them. Anyway, it's worked entirely to his advantage. The less he's associated with Liberator the more easily he can swan around scot-free in Berenia."

He looked at Blake's expression. "It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do."

"If you really thought that you'd have told me you were doing it," Blake said. 

"Surely we don't have to argue about this today?" Tarrant said. "It was years ago and trivial."

"I suppose you expect me to just add it to the list and move on."

"And what list is that?" 

"I don't entirely blame you, " Blake said. "You were always a pirate at heart. The law never meant much to you. I should have known better than to put a fox in charge of the henhouse. I thought maybe you'd become civilised at last." 

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Tarrant demanded, anger growing. 

"Come on Del. You used your power to destroy official records that might stop you from illegally confiscating Liberator for your own benefit. It's hardly ethical, is it?" 

"No," Tarrant said. "It's Kerr Avon, who has never once played by any rules for all the time that I've known him. You weren't so sympathetic to his interests when he shot me and threw my body out of an airlock."

"I haven't forgotten that." Blake said. "But you're the one I'm supposed to be able to trust, not him."

"You've just come out of prison, Roj! And you're lecturing me on obeying the law!"

"That was different. We did that for the Republic, not for ourselves. What's the Commission going to say about the motive for your martial law declaration? "

"Whatever they like." Tarrant rolled out of bed and started dressing again. "I've got no control over what stupid suspicious-minded people think, even when I'm married to them. I need a..." (he nearly said drink) "coffee. I'll be in the kitchen. "

 

It was half an hour before Blake appeared, in a dressing gown and looking very unhappy. 

"Can we try this again, but without the name calling?" he asked.

"Do we have to?" Tarrant put down his third coffee on a gilt topped table. Vila's kitchen had turned out to be something of a shrine to the man's favourite pursuit and he'd retreated to the living room which was equally decadent but slightly less alcohol-themed. 

"I'm afraid so. But instead of me telling you what I think about what you did, maybe you can tell me why you did it instead."

"Calling the defense rather than the prosecution? Still feels like I'm on trial here." 

"You're not." Blake said. "Whatever you did and whyever you did it, I promise that I won't hold it against you. But I do need to understand. If I made mistakes I need to know." 

"Sod that." Tarrant said. "I know you find it difficult not to believe that the whole Republic has been your personal responsibility from day one but if I made mistakes they were mine, not yours. I was never your puppet. Give me credit for my own damn agency, at least."

"Now you're angry again," Blake said. "I don't know how we're ever going to be able to talk about this."

"Painfully, I expect," Tarrant said. He glared at his husband with love and annoyance. "Let's get it over with. Sit down and ask your questions, and then you can answer mine."

It took an couple of hours and quite a few more raised voices before they were done. Eventually the not quite recriminations and almost justifications tailed off and they sat in a glum silence. 

"I've missed you so much," Blake said eventually. 

"Me too," Tarrant said, cheering up. "Let's go back to bed." 

 

They were dressed and decent again by the time Vila got back, and sedately sitting next to each other catching up with their mail. The recent messages for Tarrant were mostly journalists now - there was nothing like a spell in prison to draw a final line under one's retirement from the day job. But he was pleased to get a message from Cally sending her best wishes to both of them. She'd got into a great deal less trouble than they had over Grear's kidnapping but still he was glad to see that she was still speaking to him. 

Vila had managed to avoid difficulty entirely, in his usual way - apparently he'd aced the investigators' lie detector test, convincing them that he'd never left Earth. 

"So what will you do now?" he asked over a considerably better dinner than either of them had had for half a year. 

Tarrant had a mouthful of something exquisite and let Blake answer. 

"We haven't discussed it yet," Blake said. "But I think we should leave the Republic." 

That, Tarrant hadn't been expecting. Leaving Earth, maybe. But this? 

Blake smiled at his expression. "I told you that I'd been thinking. And I think Lise Grear was right. Not in her methods, but in her conclusion."

He put up a hand to Tarrant's protest. "Listen to me, Del. I was President for ten years, I fought for the systems all the way and I still couldn't stop the Secession Laws, or the military suppression that followed them. Now the current government is Earth First in all but name. The systems are never going to get a fair deal while the Sol system has three quarters of the population and three quarters of the votes.

"So you've gone off democracy," Tarrant said, remarkably bemused. 

"I think we've got the wrong set-up for it to work. I used to think the systems had the right to secede but they'd be better off staying. Now I think there should be somewhere else for them to go, an association of like-minded systems with no regard to their history with Earth.Something big enough to stand up to the Republic when it tries to penalise the secessionists. Something new."

"But what about Earth?" Vila asked. "I'm quite fond of the old place. I don't want it broken." 

"Earth's got the power and the resources to manage on its own in free trade with the rest of the galaxy. Some prices might go up a bit here but its a cost worth paying to let the systems go free." 

Tarrant was still feeling bemused. "Even if you're right, do you think this new Association will want to put the disgraced President and his even more disgraced ex- military commander in charge?" 

"We've both been disgraced before," Blake said. "It wears off in time. And I don't need to run things. I just want to help."

"That seems fair." Vila said. "Maybe you can make the coffee or deliver flyers." He winked at Tarrant who tried not to laugh. 

"I saw that," Blake said. "I'm quite capable of taking a back seat."

"How many hobby groups did you join in prison?" Tarrant asked. 

"Four. No, five. There were two reading groups, and the horticulture, and drama and art. Why?" 

"And how many of them were you running after three months?" 

"That's not fair," Blake complained. "There was always a shortage of people willing to help run them. I've had a bit of experience with bureaucracy. It wasn't any trouble for me."

"He won't be delivering flyers anytime soon," Tarrant agreed with Vila. "Look, Roj. If you feel the urge to reorganise the galaxy again then I'm with you, always, but I'm not going to sign up for Grear's lot, or anyone like them. I'm not a terrorist and I'm not taking up arms against the Republic without a bloody good reason."

"Agreed. We need to do our research, that's all." Blake said. "Make the right contacts." 

"I could help with that, if you're serious." Vila offered unexpectedly. "I know someone who's going to know exactly who you need to meet. Give me a few days and I'll arrange it." 

 

"It's a good job we trust Vila, because this is the perfect spot for an ambush," Tarrant called over to Blake. It was also pouring with rain and the path through the undergrowth was nothing but mud and sticks. They'd already walked for ten minutes from where the flyer had come down, a hundred miles or so out from the Capital. 

He caught up with Vila. "How much further?" 

"Nearly there," Vila shouted back. 

"Is there shelter?" 

"Oh yes. It's nice there. Just like home." 

Tarrant found that unlikely. He was even less impressed when they came to the small hut. It was technically shelter from the rain but it was empty of people or furnishings, with not even the makings of a fire.

"Where are they?" Blake demanded. 

"He'll be here in a minute," Vila said. 

"Really?" Blake stood at the door watching the rain beat down on the empty path and Tarrant joined him. 

"There's something odd about this," Tarrant said. "Vila's fonder of his comforts than this."

"That's true. Vila!" Blake turned round. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I'm the contact Vila promised you." Avon said. He tossed them each a bracelet. "He's no doubt already making himself comfortable with a drink. Shall we follow him?"


	11. Alignment

"So are you Liberator or Berenia today?"  Tarrant settled into the oh so familiar feel of the rec room sofa with Blake next to him. 

"Neither," Avon said. He was leaning back in one of the other chairs, looking entirely at home. "We've temporarily borrowed the identity of a small private in-system cruiser with clearances for this Earth orbit. Now that Orac's both managing the holograms and monitoring the Sol flight control systems we can be a little more creative."  
   
"Why would Vila think you could be of any use to us?" Blake leaned forward. "Don't pretend that you've acquired an interest in politics!"

"An interest is precisely correct," Avon said. "We have two businesses, a dull and legal long haul for appearances and a considerable more profitable one of providing goods and services to semi-legitimate and illegitimate groups."

"In other words, common smugglers," Tarrant said. 

"If you must. But our customers are political rather than commercial."

"You're using Liberator to smuggle weapons to terrorist groups. And explosives, I suppose, to kill innocent bystanders." Blake looked utterly shocked. 

"That's not all we do," Avon said. "There's a market for information, educational materials, device development, data processing, the transfer of people between systems, even the odd break out from prison- we are flexible, if our prices can be met.  And we do a bespoke dating service; we put carefully vetted people in touch with like-minded groups. Vila tells me that's what you're after."

"You sound so proud of yourself," Blake said. "Did you sell the explosives that killed our staff?"

"We haven't been operating on Earth. It was too difficult to get Liberator in and out without risk." 

"Until now," Tarrant said. "But now you've got Orac." 

"Yes," Avon agreed. 

"But didn't you care at all about the innocent lives?" Blake demanded

Avon's look would have withered anyone less resilient than Blake. "Have you forgotten Star One? "

"That was for a cause. This is just money, and more than you could possibly need at that."

"More always comes in useful," Avon said lightly. "I might want to buy a star system someday." 

"Do you care at all what any of these groups stand for?" Blake demanded. 

"I'm in business." Avon said. "What do you think?"

"And what about Dayna? Don't tell me it's just business for her?" 

Avon smiled. "No, Dayna's the idealist. She believes people have a right to be armed. A useful creed for a weapons designer." 

He stood up.  "I'm going to find Vila. We have a couple of things to talk about. When you're done being outraged come and find me.  We can discuss your requirements then."

There was silence after he left. Finally, Tarrant said "We did work with some pretty unsavoury people back in the day." 

"That was because we had to, not for money!" Blake said. "You must see the difference!" 

"I didn't mean what he was doing was all right. I meant that maybe we could justify using him, if we need to. Just one more unscrupulous bastard we happen to need something from. God knows we dealt with enough of those."

Blake lifted his head from his hands. "Except that this one was once my friend. Go on then, let's get this done." 

They found Avon in the galley with Vila. Blake gave Avon a brief and unemotional outline of his ideas about an association of systems.  

After a few pertinent questions Avon said, "You shouldn't be surprised to know that there are plenty of people out there who have been thinking along the same lines for some time.  In a lot of system outside the Republic it's starting to be mainstream political thinking, which means I don't have much to do with it. There are two groups of systems which seem to be getting their acts together; either of them might in time form the basis of your association.

"Alternatively if you want to stay within the current Republic I can put you in touch with a couple of peaceful groups who seem to think they can get somewhere by working within the system. Or there's the full-on exclusionary movement--you already know about that.  How much money do you have?"

"How much were you planning to charge us?" Blake countered. 

"Not for me!" Avon sounded surprised. "I owe you a considerably larger favour than this. Liberator will take you wherever you want to go. But wherever that is you're unlikely to be able to draw your official Presidential pension. If you need funds the ship has them."

"At what interest rate?" Tarrant asked. "And do we get to keep our knee-caps?" 

Avon glared at him. "If you keep displaying your usual level of civility, Del Tarrant, neither of you will be working for long with anyone. If you need money, it's yours, no strings." 

"We'll get by with what we have," Blake said. "I'm sure you understand why we'd rather not take your credits."

"Suit yourselves," Avon said stiffly. "I'll leave you two to decide what you want to do. When you have instructions for me, tell Zen. We can stay in Earth orbit for up to two more days."

"Was he actually offended?'" Tarrant asked after Avon had stalked off. 

"I think so," Blake sounded equally bemused. 

"Of course he was offended." They'd half forgotten Vila, finishing his drink in the corner.  "He dropped everything to come and it's not safe to bring the ship here, whatever he said to you. You could have said thank you." 

"He must have known how much I'd despise what he's doing," Blake said. 

"He could be doing a lot worse." Vila said. "The easiest way to make real money out of Liberator would be to hire her weapons out to the highest bidder. They help out rebel groups instead of bombing them.  I think Avon maybe expected you to be a little bit impressed with that."   

"And how long have you known about all this?" Blake demanded. 

Vila shrugged.  "Seven, eight years, maybe."

"Eight years! And Cally as well, I suppose?" 

"Well, yes. But it's not like they came visiting all the time. Sometimes we didn't see them for ages. And we couldn't tell either of you, not while you were being the government. Not till now." 

Blake was on his feet, pacing in agitation. "It's no good. I can't just ignore it! This is what we protected!" he stormed at Tarrant. "This is what those extra three months in prison paid for! We gave him Liberator and we gave him Orac and we shielded him from Republic security, all so he could do this. What the hell do we do now?" 

"But you're missing the whole point!" Vila said with rather more vehemence than they were used to from him.  "Tarrant! How many terrorist attacks have there been on Earth in the last couple of years?" 

"Four," Tarrant said. "Including the Palace. And another six attempts thwarted."

"And the rest of the Republic?"

"In the last two years? None. We've got pretty much on top of the problem out there, at last."

"But don't you see? You think he's encouraging murderous terror attacks out in the systems- well, where are they? Where are all these deaths he's responsible for? You ought to know, if anyone does." 

Tarrant found himself in the uncomfortable position of reconsidering the ground he was taking a stand on. "He has a point," he said to Blake. "Dissident groups out there have been getting steadily less violent for years. We could never work out why it wasn’t happening on Earth as well."

“Because Avon doesn’t operate on Earth,” Vila said.

"You don't seriously think that Avon's been deliberately quietening things down out there?  Whilst selling guns?"  Blair was looking baffled. 

"I think he's capable of it, if he wanted to.” Tarrant said. “But I'm not sure what his motive would be."

“We’d better ask him. Both of them. Zen, locate Avon and Dayna.”

 

 

"Let me get this straight," Avon said. He was standing in the middle of the flight deck, facing them down, with Dayna at his shoulder. "You are asking... no, demanding to know why we're not being responsible for the wholesale atrocities that you expect from us." 

"You're the one who told me you were an arms dealer," Blake snapped. 

"Goods and services, I said. You decided that meant weapons."

"So you don't sell arms?" Tarrant asked 

"Of course we do," Dayna glared at him. "And I'm proud of it. Not everywhere out there is like your Republic. There are people fighting for their lives and freedom using the weapons we sell them."

"Outside the Republic," Blake said, and to Avon, "You could have told me!" 

"You'd already jumped to a conclusion on your own. Why should I confuse your mind with unasked for facts?" 

"I still don't see why, though." Tarrant said. "Keeping things peaceful- what's in it for you?" 

"Live customers are more profitable than dead ones." Avon said. 

"It's what we've always done." Dayna said. "We don't really care what their particular ideology is but the more crazily they behave the less we have to do with them. We help out the more reasonable ones." 

"Oh." Blake said flatly. "Then it seems that I might have misjudged you." 

"Not for the first time, and not entirely." Avon said, more cheerfully. "Don't conclude that we're on the side of the angels. You wouldn't like most of our customers at all and you certainly wouldn't approve of what we do for them. But no, we didn't sell explosives to your terrorists. Do you know where you're going yet? "

"Not yet." Blake said. "I need to talk to Tarrant. We'll be in our quarters."

 

"What do you think?" Tarrant had pulled out his old red and black studded jacket from the wardrobe. "I think it will still fit, just about. I just need something to go under it."

"Some might say that fashions have moved on a bit," Blake said. "But I always liked that one." 

"Since my more fashionable clothes are now cinders it will have to do." Tarrant went rummaging for a matching shirt and black trousers. He'd missed all this stuff. Wherever they went they should bring some of it with them. 

"So what do you think?" He started to strip off. "Where should we go?" 

"Nowhere at all," Blake said. 

"Stay on Earth? But I thought..." 

"Not Earth," Blake said. "Here."

"Liberator?" Tarrant stopped with his shirt half way over his head. "You surely don't want to become part of Avon's smuggling business?" 

"Of course not," Blake said. "But whichever system we go to we're stuck on the ground. If this is going to work we need Liberator as a base again."

"I can see a minor flaw in this plan." Tarrant said. "You gave her away to Avon, remember?" 

"Then we'll just have to persuade him to give her back again. After all, it's not as if he's using her for anything important." 

"And that's what you're going to tell him, is it?" Tarrant asked. 

"Precisely. Shall we have a word with him when you're dressed again?" 

"Oh yes please," Tarrant said, pulling the shirt fully over his head. "Believe me, I wouldn't want to miss this conversation for the world." 

 

"You want my ship?" Avon had come to their quarters as requested and was now standing in their living room sounding more confused than anything else.

"Yes." Blake said firmly and as an afterthought. "If you wouldn't mind."

"And don't you think it likely that I would mind?" 

"Not a great deal," Blake said. "You've had her for ten years and I admit the camouflage is very impressive. I like what you've done with the teleport too. But I don't think your heart's in this smuggling business. You're not really a people person, after all. I doubt that you like dealing with the customers, you don't need the money and basically it's just an excuse to fly her around the place keeping one step ahead of trouble because retiring to your own luxury estate sounds unutterably tedious."

"So why would I give her back to you if she's the only thing keeping me from terminal ennui?" 

"We're not going to be boring," Blake said. "With us you'll have far more interesting things to do."

"Hang on!" Tarrant interrupted. He been standing behind Blake, watching the conversation but now he stepped forward with his hand on Blake's wide sleeve. "You didn't say anything about him staying on board!"

"It's his ship and his home," Blake pointed out. "I'm hardly going to throw him off. Besides we need him. We need all of them, but Avon most." 

"I don't mind the others!" Tarrant hissed. "None of them ever killed me!"

"That again? You really do know how to hold a grudge," Avon said. "Or surely you can't still be jealous about Blake after all this time?" 

"I don't like you," Tarrant said. "And I certainly don't trust you, and I don't want you anywhere near Blake for any longer than is absolutely necessary. You've betrayed both of us too many times." 

"Not recently," Blake said. "People change, Del. And we do need him." 

"And my ship," Avon said. "Which I am certainly not giving back to you. But you're right about the smuggling. Now I've got Orac it's all too easy. I might possibly be prepared to lease some space on Liberator out to you for a period, if the fine detail of your intentions impresses me." 

"That would be all we need," Blake said. "We just need a base of operations, not outright ownership." 

"Roj!" Tarrant said, his fingers tightening on the man's arm. "Do you intend to completely ignore my opinions about this?" 

"Of course not," Blake said. "We'll talk about it." 

"Now." Tarrant said. "Before this goes any further." And to Avon, "Would you please leave?" 

"Of course," Avon said. "Let me know when you want to continue this conversation, Blake." He seemed entirely relaxed as he walked out.

Tarrant wasn't. He swung around to face his husband. 

"Every time, Roj! Every single time that man turns up in our lives you forgive him for the last thing he did and he promptly sells us out again. Is it ever going to stop?" 

"Last time he was accused of taking Orac and he wasn't guilty." Blake said. 

"And the time before it was shooting me and chucking my body out of an airlock, and he was!"

"Come on, Del. It was you who asked me to go a bit more gently on him about that."

"The only reason I spoke up for him then was because I thought he was really suffering. Turns out he just wanted you in the right mood to give him Liberator. He's not trustworthy, Roj. Not one inch. We can't possibly live alongside him. What were you thinking?"

"I was mostly thinking about Liberator." Blake said. "Not just for what we can do with her, but for us. After all we've been through, doesn't it lift your heart just to be back here? This is our home in a way that the Presidential Palace never was. Isn't that worth a bit of putting up with Kerr Avon?" 

"You don't put up with him," Tarrant pointed out. "You genuinely like him. And he uses that to play you. Do you think it was an accident that led you to think he was an arms dealer? It was all set up so you'd feel guilty about misjudging him and ignore the crap he actually does."

"Oh, undoubtedly." Blake said. "He does like thinking he's always the cleverest person in the room. Still, he owns Liberator and we want to stay here so why not let him think he's being smart?" 

"That's what I mean!" Tarrant flung his arms out helplessly. "You think of him as - I don't know, just as Kerr Avon I guess. But he's dangerous! He hijacked our ship, he nearly got you killed, he sold the Liberator out to Servalan with you still unconscious in the med unit, he certainly stole Orac first time round even if not the second, and he shot me. He's not a joke, Roj, or a bit of a maverick. He's ruthless and utterly selfish."

Blake sighed. "I've known Avon much longer and much better than you have. Before you came along... well, I've never had any illusions about him and I still don't. Yes he's ruthless and yes, he's selfish but he's also risked his life for the rest of us countless times. As long as his interests don't cross with yours he's someone you should be glad to have at your back."

He smiled a little at Tarrant's scowl. "Come on, now, Del. When you took Liberator out to face down the Fleet, who else would have done what he did out there with you?"

"He was protecting his asset," Tarrant said. "He wanted his ship back in one piece. You don't seriously think he cared about the Revolution or about me?" 

"That's what I mean." Blake said. "As long as our interests align he's going to be useful."

"And when our interests stop aligning he sells us out without warning. We can't live like that, Roj!"

"We can and we should," Blake said. "This is too much of a golden opportunity to pass over because Avon makes you nervous, however much I understand that. Remember that you're a dangerous man too. You'll keep an eye on him for me, and Dayna can be trusted. This is home, Del. Don't let the thought of Avon keep us away from her!"

That was apparently Blake's final position and no amount of arguing would shift him from it. In the end Tarrant lost his temper and fired off the question he'd started out determined not to ask. "What will you do if I just flat out refuse to share a ship with him?"

Blake looked pained. "It's not going to be easy to find somewhere else, Del. I suppose we could borrow funds for a ship of our own but it won't be anything like Liberator. I really wish you'd reconsider. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you didn't say any of the things you've said before. That I'm the one with the problem, that you need him more than you need me, that I mustn't make you choose between us. Remember?" 

"I remember," Blake's voice was bleak. "I said a lot of things and most of them were wrong. You haven't been carrying that lot around in your head all this time, have you?" 

"While I thought he had taken Orac I could honestly believe that he'd never come back," Tarrant said. "It didn't matter then. But as soon as he got let off yet another hook I knew you'd want to team up with him again. You always do, and whatever I say never makes any difference." He was trying very hard not to sound petulant. 

"I've just spent six months without you and it was hell." Blake said. "I'm not going anywhere with Avon or anyone else if you're not coming along. But that doesn't mean I don't think you're wrong about this one. How about a trial period? Six months and if it doesn't work out I promise we'll settle somewhere else." 

Tarrant looked slowly around their old home, where they'd spent their first few years together. All that time on Earth and not one place down there that they could say that they belonged to - hell, he wanted to be out among the stars again so badly. 

"I've got a few conditions," he said.


	12. Reputations

_Distant shot of a turreted grey stone building with a crowd around the entrance. Zoom into iron gates opening and two men, dwarfed by the high gates, emerge. They are holding hands._

Voice over: **Just over a year since the disgraced ex-President and his husband completed their prison sentences for the kidnapping of terrorist Lise Grear, they have returned to the Solar System for the first face to face talks between the rebellious systems and the Earth government.**

_Shot of Liberator in orbit around the blue Earth. The ship is gleaming white in the sunlight._

Voice over: **However after the chaotic and violent end to Blake's controversial presidency, many think that the troublesome pair should be banned from Earth for good.**

_Shot of large group of uniformed soldiers marching down a street, weapons in their hands, cut to shot of the Presidential Palace in flames, cut to large crowd demonstrating outside the rebuilt edifice. Scan across crowd at head height. Focus in on a middle aged female protestor with a hand written sign reading "Traitors to Earth!"_

Protestor speaks passionately to camera: **They have been out there conspiring with the outsiders against their own people! Prison's too good for them. They ought to be hanged, both of them.**

_Cut to second young male protestor, placard shows a photo of the Earth with 1ST written underneath. He points at the cloud cover overhead:_ **They've brought that alien monstrosity here to threaten us! Our defense grid should be shooting it out of the sky!**

Voice over: **It's a far cry from the days when Tarrant and Blake were both hailed as revolutionary heroes.**

_Fast montage: cheering crowds at Blake's inauguration, the Fleet led by Liberator, Tarrant in uniform, long shot of Earth._

Voice over: **It's only now with the clarity of hindsight that historians like Professor Tisbet are beginning to ask; was Blake's bloody Revolution even necessary?**

_Cut to elderly gentleman in a grey waistcoat, sitting in a study piled high with books._

Professor: **Roj Blake's so-called revolution can best be seen as a highly successful power grab by a handful of anti-Earth provocateurs. Excesses by a few over-zealous individuals like Supreme Commander Servalan were used by the rebels to stir up general opposition to what was in fact a tried and tested system for providing Earth's basic needs and the systems with the efficient management and control that so many of them now lack.**

_Cut to images of dead crops, rusting machinery and broken Domes._

_Back to the Professor, hands folded, leaning forward to speak intently to the camera._

Professor: **It is a tragedy that so many lives were lost and so many resources were wasted for so long in trying to turn the Federation into Blake's ideologically distorted idea of a Republic, run by the systems for the systems. It is only now as the natural political balance is finally being restored that we see that the true Republic, our mother planet caring for her children, is the true descendent of the Federation, not its opposite.**

_Cut to close up of Liberator, various angles, including what appear to be weapons ports._

Voice over: **So why have these men broken their exile now and brought their alien warship to haunt the skies of Earth again? Those on the ground below are bound to see it as a show of aggressive military strength by those systems which have turned their back on the world that seeded them. The official statement, however, is that the two sides are meeting in friendship.**

_Shot of Blake and Tarrant in party clothes, on gold carpet, smiling. Cut to the ruins of the Presidential Palace, smoldering. Cut to people being dragged away by soldiers. Very brief image of Saturn's rings. Cut back to Liberator looming enormous over a flotilla of smaller Fleet military ships._

Voice over: **But many on Earth remember that the last time Liberator was visible in our blue skies the capital was plagued by terrorism as a thousand protesters against Blake's tenuous grip on power were thrown into jail on his husband's orders.**

_Shot of President Amyris thoughtfully considering a screen in front of her._

Voice over: **One thing is certain: the President of the Republic isn't intimidated by the thought of meeting her infamous predecessor later today.**

_Amyris turns to speak to camera:_ **Of course we all respect our war heroes for what they sacrificed during the Revolution. But I will be happy to settle for my small place in history, not as a great military warrior, but as the first President of the Republic who kept faith with the people who voted for me.**

Voice over: **Join us shortly for full coverage of the public and political reaction as the official representatives of the rebel systems arrive on Earth.**

_End of feature._

'Well, that was bracing," Avon said. "I think your honeymoon period may be well and truly over. Still want to go down there?" 

"I did tell you." Vila had come visiting as soon as they'd reached Earth orbit. "The mood's nasty down there. The secessions are causing shortages and price rises and they blame you."

"I told you that we ought to have been camouflaged," Dayna said. "As anything but Liberator."

Blake was still staring at the blank screen. Tarrant saw him shake himself very slightly before he turned to respond. "This is an official diplomatic mission. We couldn't come disguised. And we expected propaganda."

Tarrant hadn't expected it, not quite like that. He'd braced himself for heavy criticism of what they'd done in office and what they'd done afterwards, and maybe a mention of Saturn, but he'd naively thought that their actions during the Revolution were safe from condemnation at least. 

"At least now we know what we're getting into," he said.

"If Earth votes to have the Federation back in all but name I can't stop them," Blake said. "But they're not taking the systems down with them. We have a job to do here. A bit of negative press coverage isn't going to get in the way. Any word yet from Cally?" 

"She's just come on board," Dayna said. 

"Good. We need to be ready to go."

"That defence grid could indeed shoot us out of the sky," Avon pointed out. "Zen's monitoring it. Any hint of a suggestion that it's readying to fire and I'm taking my ship out of here."

"Noted." Blake said. 

"And then bringing her straight back under camouflage to pick us up." Tarrant said pointedly. 

"If the defence grid activates there won't be any civilian traffic permitted." Dayna said. "It might take us a long time to get back to Earth orbit safely." 

"Del and I survived ten years of Earth politics. We can survive it for another few days if we have to." Blake said. "Don't take any risks with the ship."

"I wasn't intending to." Avon turned to greet Cally at the doorway. 

She clasped his outstretched hand between hers with a smile that faded as she turned towards Blake. 

"Of all the people they could have sent! Why the hell would you think you were the right one to do this?" 

"Because no one else would come," Blake said. "They think they're winning, out there, that Earth will fold soon enough with no need for negotiations. It was difficult enough to persuade them to grant us full diplomatic credentials for this meeting."

"Then they are idiots," she snapped. "Haven't they noticed that they are on the verge of a full scale war? Earth's economy might be struggling but the highly effective military that Del so generously bequeathed to the Republic is still at full strength." 

"That's why we're here," Blake said. "Somehow we've got to get both sides talking. If I can go back with anything at all, that will be a start." 

 

"I'm gong to stop you there," the convenor said to Blake. "And draw today's session to a close. I'm sure we all agree that real progress has been made." 

"I don't agree at all." Blake said. "All we've done is set out our respective positions."

"And that has been very useful," she said. "A time for reflection on those positions will benefit everyone. Our next session is booked for nine am tomorrow morning."

Around them people were standing and collecting up their various devices. A young man came to speak to them. "If you'll come with me. I'll show you to your rooms and explain the catering arrangements."

No formal dinner with the President for them, Tarrant noted. Still, they weren't being thrown out into the street. A good thing too - from the glance he'd got as they'd arrived it hadn't looked particularly friendly out there. 

Blake had accepted the inevitable end of the session and was talking to one of his old staff members. As they walked towards the door Tarrant's own old chief of staff, Derlot came to join him. 

"Commander Tarrant! It's good to see you again."

"Just Tarrant," he said. "And you'd be wiser not to be seen in my company."

"To hell with that," Derlot said, failing into step with him as he walked behind Blake. "Not everyone's loyalties have changed."

There were security people ahead and behind them now. Blake was laughing at something his companion had said. Tarrant tried to calm his prickles. The new Presidential Palace had being built to a different design and he wasn't entirely sure where they were going. 

Derlot was telling him about being affected by some changes in security vetting procedures. They turned a corner and two more guards stepped between him and Blake. "Hang on!" Tarrant said and tried to push forward past them, just as Blake went through a door that slid closed behind him. 

Tarrant opened his mouth to shout and someone plastered gel over his mouth. The guards swing him into the wall and his arms were wrenched behind him and immobilised with a spray of something. They dragged him round again. 

"The gel will dissipate without trace in twenty minutes," Derlot said. "Unfortunately before then you will have accidentally taken a wrong turn and lost your escort. Easy to do in a strange building. Bring him along."

There wasn't much Tarrant could do against five of them with his hands encased in hardened gel. Even the teleport implant in the back of his hand was inaccessible. What had happened to Blake? He was dragged through another couple of corridors and up to what looked like an outer door. The guards stepped aside without a word.

"My loyalties are to Earth. And the only good traitor is a dead one." Derlot punched him hard in the face, the door opened and he was shoved through to fall clumsily on his knees in the open air. 

He saw the silver rope first, coiled incongruously on the floor in front of him. Then the pillars of the balustrade in elegantly curved marble, edging the balcony that he knelt on, then through the gaps the placards barely a couple of feet below him, then the faces and with them the noise that grew and crashed over him. 

By the time he'd got to his feet the first few demonstrators had clambed onto the shoulders of their fellows and were swarming over the edge of the balcony. He didn't stay on his feet for long.


	13. Damage

This was not the way Tarrant wanted to die. 

Normally it would have been easy to keep his balance as he stood, feet well apart, on the wide parapet. On a normal day he hadn't been badly beaten with his hip screaming pain at him, hands still pinioned behind his back, a rope too tight for comfort around his neck and several hundred people below him screaming at him to jump. If he didn't oblige them soon, he had no doubt that someone behind him would finish the whole thing with a shove. 

He really hoped that the bastards who had set this up would have the decency to cut his body down before Blake saw it. He hoped that they'd let Blake go when their grisly message had been delivered. He still hoped for a last second rescue, but if he hadn't been teleported up yet despite a missed call-in it meant that Liberator had fled the system or had been destroyed. 

Something caught his eye in the distance; a flyer, dangerously low and zigzagging. Behind him heavy guns on the Palace roof started up and he nearly lost his balance as the balcony shook. 

The flyer was spraying incendiaries over the crowd. Those that still could screamed and ran. The ones directly hit just screamed. That can't be Blake, Tarrant thought. He took the opportunity of the distraction to throw himself backwards, falling heavily on his back between the men who had forced him up onto the balustrade. The flyer ripped round in a tight curve for another pass and the pilot started to mow down the men around him with a hand weapon. 

"Tarrant!" a voice shouted. The flyer was hovering now, its nose balanced precariously on the balcony. Soldiers were running out among the remnants of the crowd, firing up at them. Tarrant made a huge effort and dragged his agonising painful body upwards, his right leg dragging uselessly behind him. 

"Get in!" 

He couldn't. He was still tied to the balcony rail. He heard Avon curse as he fired at the taut rope. As it jerked tight around Tarrant's neck, he struggled impossibly for breath and then blacked out. 

 

Tarrant was woken by the pain, a great deal of it. For a few minutes he just lay still and fought the agony. Eventually he started to think. 

The gel over his mouth was gone. He was lying somewhere very cold. He opened his eyes to see the blurred shape of trees above him. against a moonlit sky 

Blake! He tried to move and pain overwhelmed him so he spoke instead. "Blake?" His throat was too sore to speak in more than a whisper. 

"I've no idea." Avon's voice came from close by. "Liberator was trying to get all of us back when I lost contact with her. There's no point worrying about your husband right now. We have plenty of things of our own to worry about."

Tarrant tried to lift his head and nearly blacked out again. "How bad?" he rasped. 

Avon moved into Tarrant's line of sight. Even in the moonlight Tarrant could see that his face was bloodied and one eye was swollen shut. "We're alive, and we seem to have lost our pursuers but I had to ditch the flyer, there's no shelter and I'm guessing you're not going to be walking far anytime soon." 

With Avon's help Tarrant tried to assess his injuries. He hadn't, as he had feared, broken his spine but his chest was crushingly painful, there was no way that he could put any weight at all on his leg without screaming aloud and his right wrist seemed to be broken. Avon claimed his own injuries were minor but Tarrant could hear his short gasps as he moved around. 

Tarrant's throat was sore enough that asking the questions he wanted to was out of the question. Avon didn't seem in a mood to chat. He'd brought back water from somewhere in one of his leather boots. Having helped Tarrant to a few sips, he disappeared again. It was bitingly cold. Tarrant closed his eyes. 

Tarrant was woken with an agonising shake to his shoulder. The moon was setting now and Avon was nothing but a dark shape against a small fire. "Stay awake," the shadow said. "I've had to risk the fire. It's gong to get colder yet as the night goes on." 

Tarrant tried to obey, and failed. At some point later there was a long period of hellish, barely conscious agony; he was being moved around and no-one seemed to be being careful about it. 

 

When he finally woke properly the pain was mostly gone, replaced by the numbness of heavy painkillers. He slowly opened his eyes. He was in a bed. 

"Blake?"

A face he didn't know looked down at him then vanished. There were a lot of splints and bandages to work round but he managed to prop himself up a little so that he saw Avon come into the plain bedroom, walking rather gingerly and with half his face still red and swollen. 

"Where's Blake?" Tarrant repeated. 

"Reports from the Palace say he teleported out. The news broadcasts say that Liberator was badly damaged by the defense grid but got away. My guess is that he's safe on the ship." Avon said

"Where are we?" Tarrant asked. 

"Siberia. We were lucky - the right people saw the fire." 

"Cally?"

"She and her people were running interference on the military chasing us. If she made it she'll be here when she can. We came down in a pretty remote party of her territory and she won't bring a flyer here while satellites are watching."

Tarrant tried to pull his thoughts together. "Why aren't you on the ship?" he croaked. 

"Cally persuaded me that we ought to have a back up plan. I think she had a fairly good idea that someone was going to try to kill you. Blake's an idiot and you're no better" 

Tarrant remembered the flyer screaming into the Palace courtyard. "You could have been killed." 

"I'm painfully aware of that," Avon said. "I have to say that getting yourself actually lynched by a genuine mob was a rather more creative way of getting into trouble than we'd imagined. We had a lot of scenarios planned for but not that one."

Tarrant was too exhausted to answer so he closed his eyes instead. When he half woke again he could hear Cally's low voice and Avon answering. He fell asleep again and when he next woke he was told that both Cally and Avon had gone. 

After a couple of days Tarrant got his taciturn carers to cut back on the painkillers so that he could stay awake for more than five minutes at a time. He had been brought a vid screen and he watched the broadcasts obsessively between long periods of sleep. 

He'd expected war to have been declared by now. Instead he found that Earth was too busy arguing with itself. There had been three hi-res camera drones covering the demonstration, all of which had filmed his attempted murder and dramatic rescue, and one of them had caught a clear view of Derlot's face as Tarrant was pushed through the doorway. From far off neutral space Blake had broadcast a weak signal straight onto the Earth's vid screens, showing the unprovoked attack on the Liberator, demanding justice and a guarantee of safety for his missing husband and offering a last chance for peace. 

It was all hard for Tarrant to watch - the rope round his neck and what he was sure must be obviously naked terror on his face, Blake's distress, the horrendous damage to Liberator and people in flames, screaming. 

But even through his personal discomfort he could read that the mood on Earth was changing. There were more old clips of broadcasts from the Revolution and Blake's presidency and even a few ex-military figures willing to talk on air about what Tarrant had achieved. A significant percentage of Earth's population apparently didn't like the idea that it was the sort of place that lynched its war heroes and they were finally speaking out against the conflict with the systems. 

Derlot had been arrested. The President had condemned the violent attack against a diplomat in the Presidential Palace itself. A day later she was also reluctantly forced to condemn the unprompted attack on Liberator, and more arrests took place.

By the third day Tarrant was thoroughly relieved to hear the hum of a flyer. "Where have you been?" he demanded. 

"Setting a false trail." Avon said. "They were getting too close for comfort." He dropped a heavy coat onto the bed and took the only chair. "Are you planning to stay in bed indefinitely?" 

"I have a broken hip," Tarrant pointed out. "You try wandering around with one of those and no modern surgical equipment. Why did you save my life?" 

"I have a better question. Are you ever going to stop being astonished every time I do?" 

Avon's face was still badly discoloured with bruising but Tarrant could see the twist of his lips. 

"You've always had some self-serving reason before. I'd like to know what it was this time."

"And if it doesn't fit your preconceptions?" 

"Come on, Avon. It's nearly fifteen years since we first met. Give me credit for knowing by now that you wouldn't lift a finger to save me unless there was something in it for you." 

Avon sighed, stood and walked out. Tarrant turned the screen on again and watched the lack of updates. 

To his surprise Avon was back again after a short while, with hot drinks and slices of a solid cake-like stuff. 

"This one-sided feud of yours had grown very old over the years. I don't need your gratitude but this unrelenting hostility strikes me as potentially dangerous. Since you're a captive audience and I don't have anything better to do we might as well talk about it." 

He put the tray down next to Tarrant's good arm and closed the bedroom door. 

"I don't see what there is to talk about." Tarrant said. "You've convinced me before that you had normal human feelings. Every time it was a ploy."

"Yes." Avon took one of the mugs of local tea and settled back in the chair. "I've done that a few times. It used to be easier to manipulate you than to try to persuade Blake directly." 

"Then why are you surprised that I don't trust you now?" Tarrant demanded. 

"It's not a matter of trust," Avon said. "If you ask any of the others, particularly Blake, he'll agree that I can't always be trusted. But he doesn't think that means that I want to see him come to harm. When I save his life he doesn't look for the catch."

"You've put his life at risk enough times."

"And does he hold a grudge?" 

"I hold them for him." Tarrant said. 

"You certainly do that," Avon said, half amused. "I've lost count of the number of times I've pulled him out of trouble, but for you it's now four. Are you starting to feel like you might be mistaken about me?"

"I accept that you did it. I still want a reason," Tarrant said.

Avon sighed. "You're useful, you're moderately entertaining and you keep Blake more stable than he would be otherwise."

"You've got your alternative pilot now, I doubt that I amuse you enough to risk your life for, and without me Blake would be all yours. Try again."

"All these years and you still invariably get that the wrong way round," Avon said. "There's no particular physical attraction on either side between Blake and me. We had two years to make sure of that before you turned up. It was entertaining enough to see you jealous but you should have grown out if it by now."

That phrasing had caught Tarrant's attention. He narrowed his eyes at Avon. "If you and Blake are me getting it the wrong way round, what's the right way?"

Avon leaned back in his chair. He would pass for relaxed with anyone else but Tarrant had spent a lot of time over the years watching him. "A figure of speech, that's all."

"Crap," Tarrant told him. "Something else is up. Something you're not telling me." If Avon and Blake were the wrong way round... " Fuck. It's me, isn't it?"

"It's not important," Avon told him.

"If it was enough to make you take a flyer straight into heavy artillery, it seems pretty important to me. I'd be dead otherwise."

Avon scowled at him. "Do you really think I'd risk my life over an itch for someone completely unavailable? Don't be an idiot."

"Then give me a better reason."

He laughed at Avon's silence. "You were the one who wanted to talk about this."

"Shut up," Avon said abruptly. Tarrant was about to retort in kind when he saw that Avon was no longer looking at him but at the vid screen, which had been burbling away to itself throughout their argument. Now it was showing the Liberator.

He grabbed for the controls and turned the volume up.

“… entered the Sol system a few minutes ago.  We are receiving a very short broadcast from the ship."

Cut to Blake’s face. Tarrant thought he looked terribly tired. 

“We are here under the diplomatic immunity already agreed, for no other purpose than to search for our missing official delegate and crew member.”

The broadcast ended. “They’re risking getting shot at again. Why didn’t they come in camouflage?” Tarrant demanded.

“Too messy,” Avon suggested.  “If we were seen to teleport without Liberator in the system there could be all sorts of fall out.  The same if we left on another ship, or weren’t seen to leave at all.”

The news vid was discussing how long it would take for the defense grid to power up, should the President order it.  Tarrant ran his good hand over his immobilised wrist. Somewhere in there was the teleport chip.  He hoped it still worked.  “How long till range, do you think?” he asked, more for comfort than anything else. He knew how fast his ship travelled.  

Avon’s look suggested that he thought that Tarrant should know that too, but he answered. “Less than five minutes.  Anything you want to take with you?”

“Not the cake stuff, that’s for certain," Tarrant said.  “Stick your head out of the door and say goodbye and thank you to our hosts, will you?” 

“We can send a message via Cally later,” Avon said.  He was still watching the screen, where close ups of Liberator showed that most of the damage done earlier was still unrepaired. “They should have held off coming until she was fully functional again.”

“I wouldn’t have waited if it had been Blake out of communication down here,” Tarrant said.  

“You’ll fall onto the teleport platform if you get teleported up from bed,” Avon said.  “I imagine that will hurt.” He came round to the side of the bed.  “Let’s try and get you standing on your good leg.”

Tarrant put his undamaged arm across Avon’s shoulders, trying not to curse aloud as Avon’s arm hitched under his broken ribs.  He shifted to the edge of the bed, put his foot down and then pushed himself upwards.

At that point he lost control of the not swearing thing. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he said. “I will never take the bloody med unit for granted again.”  

“Still, you’re standing,” Avon said.  “And she’s already passing Jupiter.  Any moment now.” 

The teleport chip buzzed slightly. Normally it was barely perceptible. This time it was vibrating in the middle of swollen tissue and he nearly swore again.  

“I’m bringing us up,” Avon said to his communicator. “Get a stretcher for Tarrant.  He’s alive and chatty but he’s not walking anywhere.”


	14. Back to the Start

"It's so good to be able to move without pain again," Tarrant sighed happily and rolled onto his back. 

"I thought those moves were pretty good too." Blake said. "I suppose we ought to get out of bed soon."

"No reason to." Tarrant stretched languidly. "Ship's not going anywhere till the autorepairs finish."

"I should monitor the peace talks." Blake said reluctantly. 

"They'll manage without you for a bit. We got them together, and we got both sides to agree on something, if only that you, I and Liberator are all infernal nuisances. Rest on your laurels for a while, Roj. Besides, I need to talk to you about Avon."

Blake rolled onto his side. "What's he done now?"

"You might find this difficult to believe, but he's got a crush on me." 

Blake laughed. "You've noticed that at last, have you?" 

"You knew?" 

"He's not as inscrutable as he likes to think. He isn't being an arse about it?" 

"Hell, no." Tarrant said. "He didn't want me to know at all."

"Good. When he said he'd behave impeccably I was fairly sure I could believe him," Blake said. 

"He talked to you about it?" Tarrant was outraged. 

"Oh, not at all willingly," Blake said. "I had to trap him in one of the side rooms and regale him with my observations on the matter for half an hour before he finally broke." 

"When was this?" 

"Maybe a year or so ago. Not long after we left Earth."

"And you didn't tell me?" 

"It was in confidence," Blake said. "I wouldn't have bothered him about it but I wanted to be sure we weren't heading into choppy waters." 

"But you did nothing else? You just let it go?" 

Blake laughed. "You spent years insisting that he was in love with me. What did you do about it?"

"I kept a very close eye on him when you were around."

"It's Kerr Avon. I always do that anyway. You didn't embarrass him over it, I hope." 

"Maybe a little," Tarrant said uncomfortably. "I was taken by surprise.And you know how much I dislike him."

"Was this before or after he came to your rescue?"

Tarrant frowned. "After. I wanted to know why he'd done it."

"You didn't think that was the reason, I hope?" 

"Well, yes." Tarrant said reluctantly. "Why else?"

Blake glowered at him. "Del. Really. Avon's risked his life for everyone in this ship countless times over the years. He does it because we're his family, you included, however unpleasant you insist on making yourself to him. Did you even get round to saying thank you or did you just insult him?"

"I just insulted him," Tarrant admitted. "He gets under my skin like no one else."

"I noticed that." Blake said. "I think maybe you should consider what that might be a symptom of."

Tarrant grimaced. "Don't even joke about that."

"I wasn't entirely joking," Blake said. "I think you ought to rethink your relationship with him. Simply disliking him really isn't adequate any more."

"For fuck's sake, do you want me to sleep with him?" Tarrant demanded.

"It would be a great deal healthier than this antipathy." 

"He called it a one-sided feud," Tarrant said. "And I don't want him."

"By all means don't have him then," Blake said. "But he's right about the feud. It's gone on too long and these days it's all on your side."

 

He'd woken Avon. The man was at the door of his quarters looking dishevelled. "What is it?"

"Can i come in and talk to you?" Tarrant asked. 

Avon gestured towards a chair and disappeared into his bedroom, emerging wrapped in a dressing gown. "So?"

"I owe you an apology, and an expression of gratitude. You came to my rescue and I gave you a hard time about it."

"Noted," Avon said. "Would you like me to confirm to Blake that you've done what you were told?"

"Shut up," Tarrant told him. "I'm not finished yet."

"Then do go on."

Looking at Avon had distracted him from his previous train of thought. "This thing about me. It's not serious, is it?" 

"Do I think you're my soul mate?" Avon asked dryly. "No. A physical attraction, nothing more. I'm not interested in luring you away from Blake, or at least not for more than the odd half hour "

"Blake said that wasn't why you saved me."

"I told you that. You were too busy being smug to listen."

"I'm finding this quite difficult to process."

"Then forget about it. Since you're not available it's not relevant." 

Tarrant walked to the door and turned. "Actually, Blake said he wouldn't mind." 

"Did he, indeed? I wonder how that conversation came about?" 

"I didn't ask him!" Tarrant said indignantly. 

"I didn't think for one moment that you had. Goodnight, Tarrant."

 

"We are neither military nor police." Avon said. He hadn't even looked up from his console. 

"But we can be there soon, Avon, and no one else can!" 

"That's not a reason to interfere in local politics. If the Carians don't want this coup then they can do something about it themselves."

"Its not just local," Blake insisted. "They call themselves the New Federation and they are funded by all sorts of undesirables. If this coup suceeds there will be others. We could lose this whole area of space."

"You don't own any areas of space," Avon said sharply. "You're a political advisor. That means you advise, not unilaterally overturn revolutions using my ship's weapons."

"You can trust me to know what my role is better than you do." Blake snapped. "This is something we can and will do and I will not be overruled!"

Avon had been tapping away on his console throughout. Now he looked up. "This is my ship and you will." 

To Tarrant's astonishment he felt the familiar tug of the teleport and in seconds he was standing outside the government building on Chyros that they had recently left.

"What the hell was that?" Blake demanded.

"That was us losing the argument," Tarrant said. He was unsurprised to find his teleport chip now non-functional.

"Did you know he could do that?" Blake asked.

"I should have been able to guess. I suppose we'd better go in and tell the Chyrosians that we've missed our ride. How long till he comes back, do you think?" 

"I don't think we'd better count on Liberator to get us away from here," Blake said. "When Avon goes missing it could be hours or years.

"Isn't he supposed to charge to our rescue?" 

"Only if we're in danger, I'm afraid. And there's not so much as a stinging insect on Chyros."

Tarrant looked up at the sunlight. "We could find a worse place for our retirement, I suppose."

"Not yet," Blake said. "Sorry, Del, but there's still so much more to be done."

It took them a week to find a ship that would take them in the right general direction. They made their slow way across the galaxy to Frais, the administrative centre of the independent systems. There they found notification of a substantial amount of credits in an account in their joint names but no other word from Liberator. 

Blake settled down to do his advising from a static position. In public he was good humoured in response to the endless questions about the whereabouts of his ship, alluding vaguely to other matters that the ship's crew had to attend to. In private his irritation at being dumped was soon overtaken by his focus on the next round of talks. 

Tarrant’s frustration did nothing but grow. In the preliminary agreement between the Republic and the independent systems a clause near the end had banned either side from taking formal or informal military advice from or giving any official position to ex-Commander Del Tarrant. 

He’d been amused, initially, that he was seen as more of a threat than Blake, whose role as political advisor was acknowledged in the same document. But without Liberator or any work to do he was soon climbing up the walls. He bought a racing flyer after a while and took it out most days to tackle Frais's speed records, with the inevitable consequence.

“I’m fine!” He waved the stick they’d given him at Blake who had just charged through the hospital doors having been summoned from a meeting. “Nothing but a few bruises.”

Blake shook his head. “Of course you are. Are you fit to travel?”

“No problem. Where are we going?”

“We’re not going anywhere. You are.” Blake dropped a data chip into his lap. “That’s all the information available on the recent movements of the Berenia. Go and find her. I’ve borrowed an interstellar racer for you. Please don’t break it- it’s very expensive and they want it back in one piece.” 

Tarrant fingered the chip. “You should come with me.”

“I can’t go anywhere for the next couple of months. Even if we had Liberator she would be doing nothing but sitting in orbit while you kicked your heels and no doubt tried to get yourself killed again in overpowered toy flyers. There’s no need to rush back. The signing’s eight weeks tomorrow if all goes well.”

“I'd better go and pack. And a proper goodbye, in private." Tarrant hobbled out of the hospital with Blake. "You think I’ll find her?”

“Avon wouldn’t be using that name on public records if he didn’t want you to try.”

"He could just come straight to us," Tarrant said. "Why does he have to make everything complicated?"

"Maybe he likes being chased." Blake suggested. "Particularly by you." 

"If abandoning us for months is his idea of flirtation I'll wring his neck."

"Maybe he'd like that too." 

"Should I be concerned about just how invested you seem to be in this imaginary romance?" Tarrant asked. "You're not trying to get rid of me?"

"Only for the next two months," Blake said. "And I just find it interesting. I mean, I don't fancy Avon but I can see what the attraction might be. And who wouldn't find you hot?"

"You honestly wouldn't mind if I slept with him?"

"I know Avon and I know you," Blake said. "That's all either of you would want to do together - that and bicker. Why shouldn't you, if you want to?"

"I don't want to," Tarrant said definitely. "But I'll go and find your ship for you, since I'm clearly getting under your feet here."

 

Tarrant waited patiently in the tiny ship. He'd been flying around in Selene for three weeks now and he'd got the measure of her pretty much exactly, which was useful given what he now intended to do. 

The Berenia's passive orbit was bringing her once again close to the small moon that Selene hid behind. Tarrant counted down the last few seconds and accelerated out of the shadow of the satellite straight towards the image of the freighter. 

He saw the simulated engines fire a few seconds later, but the Berenia wouldn't have a hope of moving enough to get out of his way. Liberator might, but that would wreck her disguise. 

"Small craft!" He could hear Dayna shouting at the com. "Turn away! You are in danger! Turn away now!" 

As he reached the holographic boundary he was already throwing his engines into full reverse. Liberator appeared abruptly in front of him, huge, solid and very very close. He pulled Selene's nose up and skimmed a bare fifty metres past one of Liberator's gigantic engines and round to the main holds. 

"Open hold three for me, would you, Dayna?" 

He could hear her swearing at him through the comm right until the racer was parked up. When he teleported across to the deck she was waiting for him. 

"What the hell were you doing? I nearly had heart failure!" 

"I did tell you that camouflage was dangerous for near encounters. Blame Avon for not fixing the problem. Anyway I didn't hit anything."

She sighed. "I hate it when you decide to show off. Welcome back. Blake's not with you?" 

"He's busy reorganising the galaxy again. You know how preoccupied that makes him. Is it just you two onboard?" 

"Yes. Avon's on the planet - he'll be back soon."

"You and Avon have been together for years now. Can I ask you a personal question?" Tarrant said as they reached the flight deck. 

"If it's that personal a question, the answer is certainly not. He's old enough to be my father." Dayna said. "I've got a long term boyfriend, as it happens. I don't spend my entire life hanging out with Avon. This is just what I do for a living." 

"I'm glad to hear it," Tarrant said sincerely. "I suppose you don't know if Avon's got someone as well?" 

Dayna eyed him. "You and Blake are all right, aren't you?" 

"Of course we are!"

"Because that's a very odd question for a happily married man to ask out of the blue. This isn't some sort of middle aged crisis?" 

"I was just curious. Forget I asked," Tarrant said, somewhat peeved. He objected quite strongly to being described as middle aged.

There was silence for a while. Eventually Dayna said, "Since you're curious- he takes an overnighter sometimes. I don't think there's anyone special. Most people irritate him."

Tarrant found himself reassured by the idea that Avon went in for casual sex without romance. It put the man's attraction to him firmly into perspective. Half an hour in bed really was all that Avon wanted. Maybe a bit more than half an hour. 

 

Avon paused very briefly at the flight deck doorway. "You took your time. "

"I wasn't in any hurry," Tarrant said. 

"How's Blake?" 

"Busy. He'd like the ship to be at Frais in five weeks time, if you can fit it in to your doubtless frenetic smuggling schedule."

"We can do that," Avon said. "Are you staying until then?"

"That was the plan, though if you want rid of me you need only say. I've a rather fast ship in the hold; I don't need a teleport to nowhere."

"I'll be sure to let you know if you outstay your welcome," Avon said. "Dayna, we can set course for the next system now."

 

The familiar hum of Liberator normally lulled Tarrant to sleep, but that night with the big bed half empty and his thoughts racing he was nowhere nearer sleep after a couple of hours. Eventually he got up and walked through the quiet corridors. 

Avon opened the door promptly, as if he'd been awake as well. He didn't look particularly surprised to see Tarrant. 

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Tarrant asked. 

Avon moved aside to let him in. "Why ask me? I'm the one with nothing to lose." 

"We've all got something to lose," Tarrant said, walking past him. "We always had. I've lost count of the times we've screwed things up between the three of us and yet here we are. I can't work out if this is inevitable or utterly stupid."

"If you're here just to philosophise I could be getting some sleep." Avon pointed out. 

Tarrant gave him a long look. Avon wasn't wearing much. He could be wearing a great deal less soon. Tarrant was rather taken by surprise by the strength of his desires. 

The memory caught at him of seeing Avon naked before. 

"What happened to Servalan?"

"You're asking that now? I suppose it's not entirely a non sequitur in the circumstances. One shot to the back of the head. She didn't even know I was there. I don't make a point of murdering my sexual partners, in case that was troubling you." 

"I just needed to know," Tarrant said. "Do you like kissing?" 

"Now that is a more relevant question." Avon said and stepped up to demonstrate. 

Tarrant was relieved to find that sex with Avon was nothing like Blake's warm lovemaking. Avon was precise, slightly rough and rather self centred. There were no endearments. It probably shouldn't have felt nearly as good as it did, but Tarrant had resigned himself to the fact that he was well and truly caught up in this now. 

Tarrant barely waited until they were both done and his heart rate subsided before he rolled out of the wide bed and collected up his few clothes. Avon was watching him, eyes heavy-lidded, from where he lay. 

"I'll see you in the morning," Tarrant said, and left. 

The next night he stayed in his own room. He was acutely conscious that he was going to have to account for all this to Blake in due course and he didn't want to come across like a sex-obsessed teenager, however much he felt like one. Avon seemed gratified enough to see him the following night. 

Between shifts that didn't coincide, some exhaustingly long days and Tarrant's self-imposed restraint, he spent more nights on his own than with the other man, and he never stayed, however tempting it was to fall asleep in the warm bed next to Avon's naked body. Avon didn't comment on his departures. He doubtless didn't care. He'd got what he'd wanted by then. 

 

Blake lifted his head and saw Tarrant from across the room. He said something brief to the people he was with and started towards his warm embrace. 

"Good to have you back." Blake said. "Come for a walk. For you I can always spare half an hour." 

They walked in the gardens, hand in hand. "How's it going?" Tarrant asked. 

"Unhappy compromises on both sides." Blake said. "But we're just about there. The Republic is reducing its claim to 15 percent of each system's net post-war rebuilding payments, to be met by a quarter percent tax on exports and the same discount on all imports from those systems until it's paid off. It's not fair - the Republic shouldn't be claiming any of it - but it's at least pragmatic, and it means more systems now know they can secede on those terms without being threatened or boycotted."

He sighed. "It's better than war, anyway. Talking of war, how have you been getting on with Avon all this time?"

"Tolerably." Tarrant said, and awkwardly, "Actually, we went to bed together a few times." 

Blake turned to look at him. "Really?" 

"I thought you said that you wouldn't mind?" 

"I don't mind. It was just a bit unexpected. You did seem quite set against the idea." 

At that moment it felt to Tarrant like a terrible mistake. Of course Blake would be unhappy about it. Why had he ever done something that selfish? 

"I'm really sorry," he said. "It was such a stupid thing to do. I was bored without you and he was available. It won't happen again." 

"Available!" Blakes voice was sharp. "Oh Del! I hope you haven't been pretending that Kerr Avon is some casual overnight stand?" 

He walked for a bit further before replying. "I've certainly been doing my best to treat him like one."

"That not what I meant when I said I wouldn't mind." Blake said. "Otherwise I'd just have told you I didn't care who you slept with, which I do."

"Wait a moment." Tarrant said indignantly. "You didn't tell me you expected me to strike up some sort of meaningful relationship with him. Because I could have told you for certain that was never going to happen. If you want a romance that badly you can damn well screw him yourself." 

"I just wanted you to get on better," Blake said. "It doesn't sound like this helped much. Was it at least fun?" 

"I suppose so," Tarrant said, rather crossly. "I wouldn't have bothered if I'd realised it would disappoint you so much." 

They carried on around the flower beds in silence. 

"I'm sorry," Blake said finally. "I thought my feelings about this would be simpler than this."

"You thought I'd do what you'd do in the same circumstances." Tarrant said, a little bitterly. "There would be a lot of talking, and a lot of figuring things out and some sort of mutual declaration of feelings. I walked into his bedroom, we exchanged about two sentences and then we fucked. On subsequent nights we skipped the conversation."

Blake was rather too obviously trying not to wince. "I'm not angry or disappointed. You've done nothing wrong. I just need to think about things. Then we'll talk. I've got you a ticket for the signing ceremony. You will come?"

 

Avon was standing squarely in the doorway to his quarters, unsmiling. "What do you want?" 

"I need to talk to you," Tarrant said. 

"I can figure out for myself that now your husband's back I'm surplus to your sexual requrements without the need for an official announcement."

"That's not what I came to say. I came to have the conversation that we apparently should have had five weeks ago." 

"That sounds very much like one of Blake's ideas, not yours." Avon still wasn't shifting out of the way. 

"Of course it's his idea. Are you going to let me in?" 

"I'm sure you're acting under orders, as usual, but what's in it for me?" 

"You know what Blake's like. Apparently I'm not allowed to sleep with you again until I've explained to you why I don't like you in painful detail."

"I already know why you don't like me," Avon said. 

"Then it will be a tedious conversation for both of us. If you're not interested in the outcome I'll save my breath." 

Avon stood aside. "Come in, then. I'll make coffee. I suspect this will take a while. Where do you plan to start?" 

"At the beginning." Tarrant settled down in a chair. "When I found Liberator, and Blake. The great revolutionary hero there in the flesh and the only thing he cared about was looking for you. I was pissed off with you long before I met you."

"Fair and rational from the start," Avon said. "I can't wait to hear the rest. I think I might need something stronger than coffee for this one." 

He disappeared into the next room. His voice came back, "Do carry on. I promise that I won't miss a word." 

"Don't forget the coffee!" Tarrant called back. It could be a very long night indeed. 

 

The End


End file.
